


7fics fills

by wendywrites



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendywrites/pseuds/wendywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of the fics I've written for the GOT7 writing blog 7fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jackson/JB; You Give Me Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum wants to be with Jackson so badly, but he's too scared to make the first step, haunted by the ghost of a failed relationship.

Jaebum lies on his back, his arms folded behind his head and one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. It was half past two when he last checked his phone, however many minutes ago. His eyes ache in their sockets whenever he blinks, but he keeps staring up at the shadows dancing on the ceiling instead of closing them and going to sleep. His roommate certainly doesn't have any problems shutting of his thoughts, judging by the soft snores drifting from the left side of the cramped dorm room. Unbidden, Jaebum's eyes shift to the left, but he clenches them shut before he can trade one form of masochism for another. Gritting his teeth, he reminds himself about Mark, about how he decided not to go down that road with anyone else.  
  
He must fall asleep because the next thing he's aware of is his shoulder being shook as a familiar sounding voice whispers his name. "Jaebum, hey, Jaebum."  
  
"Wha?" Jaebum mumbles, blinking blearily. He inhales deeply, relishing the scent of lavender and vanilla that invades his senses. He blinks a few more times and his eyes readjust to the dark enough to make out Jackson's face right above his. Jaebum jolts into wakefulness.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" Jackson frowns, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.  
  
His earlier decision all but forgotten, Jaebum's gaze flits across Jackson's face. His lush brown hair, now fully grown out from the buzz cut he sported during the basketball season, hangs over his forehead. The longer hair provides the perfect frame for his pretty brown eyes, making them even more striking, even in the dark. His pouty cheeks are adorably lined with pillow creases and his poutier pink lips pull down in a frown the longer Jaebum is non responsive.  
  
"Oh, uh, nothing, I'm fine," Jaebum shakes his head, bringing himself back to his senses. "Why'd you wake me?" That question only deepens Jackson's frown. "What?"  
  
"You..." Jackson starts, but there's no end to that sentence.  
  
Before Jaebum can ask him why he's awake and hovering over him, Jackson reaches out a hand and wipes his finger under one of Jaebum's eyes; a crystalline teardrop sits on his finger. Jaebum's stomach clenches so tightly that a small gasp leaves his lips.  
  
"Were you having a nightmare?" Jackson asks, concern saturating his voice.  
  
"No," Jaebum replies instantly. Jackson raises an eyebrow before he sits down on the edge of Jaebum's bed. Jaebum swallows.  
  
"Are you sure about that? 'Cause, like, you could tell me if you did and you could talk to me about it. I know I talk a lot, but I'm also a really good listener," he says with an encouraging smile, his round cheeks pushing up his eyes. The sight of him– so close and sitting on his bed–makes Jaebum's heart ache in his chest. For one mad second, he imagines sitting up and pulling Jackson into his lap to find out if his lips feel as soft as they look. His left hand twitches and he curls it into a fist, his nails biting into his skin. He flips onto his side, his back facing Jackson.  
  
"I'm sure," Jaebum says stiffly. "Good night."  
  
There's a short pause, in which Jaebum is too tense to breathe, before the edge of his bed creaks and moves, followed by a soft "Right, okay" drifting over from the other side of the room.  
  
Jaebum slowly releases the breath he's holding, but it does nothing to calm the racing of his pulse. He blinks and feels the skin under his eye tingling. Sleep evades Jaebum for the rest of the night.  
  
  
  
  
"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Jaebum blinks and Jinyoung's scowling face sharpens into focus. "Seriously, this stopped being funny a long time ago. Now it's just sad," he shakes his head before lifting another bite of rice to his mouth.

Jaebum's gaze shifts to the right, in the general direction of the basketball courts. Once he realises what he's doing, he shifts his gaze back to Jinyoung, whose scowl has only gotten more severe.  
  
"Why are you so afraid of giving yourself a chance at happiness?"  
  
"You know why," Jaebum croaks, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.  
  
Jinyoung sighs, his expression softening into something resembling pity. "I don't mean to sound cruel or unsympathetic, but you really need to put what happened with Mark behind you. Even if you never enter into another relationship with another human being ever again, you should let it go–for your own sake."  
  
"Do you think I enjoy not moving on?" Jaebum snaps, slamming his hand on the table top. Jinyoung has known him too long to flinch.  
  
"In a way, yes, I think you do," Jinyoung says evenly, his eyes narrowed into slits. Jaebum's mouth falls open in shock. "I think you're using it as a crutch–an excuse–to never open your heart again, to not make a real connection with someone else, to not even  _try_. Jaebum, you're my best friend and practically my family, but even I can't stand this spineless, cowardly version of yourself."  
  
"Fuck you, Jinyoung!" Jaebum barks, his uneaten food tumbling to the ground as he swings his knapsack onto his back.

He storms away from the table, his vision clouded with red. Some fucking friend Jinyoung is! Sure, it's been two years since his...thing with Mark ended, and Jaebum didn't expect Jinyoung to hold his hand and pat his hair forever, but that was just uncalled for. So  _what_  if he hasn't seen his dance crew in two years? So  _what_  if he deleted the contact information of every one of his and Mark's mutual friends? So  _what_  if he's shut down any and all attempts at partnership that various people have made since Mark whirled in and out of his life?  
  
"Fuck!" Jaebum slams his fist into the nearest inanimate object, a slender tree. As leaves dance on the wind and drift to the ground around him, Jaebum catches his breath. The red slowly ebbs out of his vision with each throb of pain that ripples through his hand.  
  
"Fuck," he sighs, letting his bruised hand fall to his side; Jinyoung was right. Jaebum closes his eyes and rubs his uninjured hand over his forehead.  
  
When he opens his eyes again, he spots a group of girls sitting on a blanket on the grass, giving him wary looks as they whisper amongst themselves. Jaebum pushes off the tree and continues walking, albeit at a much slower pace. It's not long before the gymnasium that houses the university's basketball courts comes into sight.  
  
"Why did I come here?" Jaebum mutters to himself, although he knows the answer. Sure enough, a familiar sounding giggle reverberates through the air as a group of boys spill out the gymnasium doors. Instinctively, Jaebum takes a step back, turning away to hide his face, but he stops mid-turn. His hands clench the straps of his knapsack, and he turns back around, stepping forward.  
  
"Oh, shut up, dick face. My hair was in my eyes when I made that last shot. That's the only reason I missed. Anyway, we weren't even playing a real game, so–Oh, hey, Jaebum," Jackson blinks in surprise. "I don't usually see you in this neck of the woods. What's up?" he smiles brightly as he trots up to Jaebum.  
  
"Er, nothing really. Kinda bored, actually," Jaebum shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. His gaze shifts minutely and a spike of self consciousness runs down his spine as he catches sight of Jackson's friends.  
  
"If you've got nothing planned then maybe you could come have lunch with me and my friends," Jackson offers. "We were just heading off to check out that new noodle place that just opened up nearby. You wanna come?"  
  
Jaebum chews on his bottom lip for a second before he nods. "Yeah, I'd like that."  
  
Jaebum wouldn't have thought it possible if he wasn't witnessing it, but Jackson's eyes shine even brighter. "Great, cool, we'll meet you there in, like, half an hour," he grins.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Jaebum nods, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets.  
  
"Later," Jackson turns to head back to his friends. Jaebum watches him take four steps before he admits to himself that he's still being cowardly.  
  
"Jackson, wait," he calls out, jogging to grab the other man by the arm.  
  
"Oh, hello again. What is it?" Jackson blinks in confusion.  
  
"Actually, I lied to you just now; I don't want to have lunch with you and your friends," Jaebum says shortly.  
  
"Oh, well–Okay, yeah you don't have to come just because I invited you, of course not," Jackson babbles, the twitching of his right eye and the rose pink flush in his cheeks hallmarks of his embarrassment.  
  
Jaebum slides his hand down Jackson's arm until he reaches the other man's wrist. "What I mean is," he forces out, his heart hammering in his chest. Jackson's eye stops twitching, but his cheeks are still pink. Jaebum takes a deep breath and swallows before he continues. "...What I'd like is for the two of us to go out. Alone." He slides his hand a little further down.  
For a moment, Jackson just stares blankly at him a Jaebum fears that he was wrong to have hope.  
  
"You...wait, what are you saying? You haven't actually asked me a question and I can't answer a question I haven't been asked," Jackson turns his face away, but the grin on his face is plain to see and his fingers gently squeeze Jaebum's.  
  
The hammering in Jaebum's chest slows down to a much more pleasant fluttering as a smile slowly stretches across his lips. "Jackson, will you go out on a date with me? I've been in love with you for weeks and I might actually drop dead if I don't get to hold you in my arms and kiss your lips," Jaebum pants, his chest heaving slightly. Jackson's head swivels to face him, eyes bugging out; panic stabs Jaebum in the chest.  
  
"Do you...Is that really how you feel about me?" Jackson blinks owlishly.  
  
"Y-yes," Jaebum breathes.  
  
Jackson's lips briefly twitch up before they cover Jaebum's. As lavender and vanilla fill his nose, Jaebum's eyes roll back in his head until he's forced to close them, his free arm slipping around Jackson's waist and pressing the other man against him. When Jackson finally pulls away, the both of them are panting as though they just ran a marathon.  
  
"So you stay alive for our date," Jackson says with a shrug. "I'm not into corpses."  
  
A laugh builds in Jaebum's chest until it bursts past his lips. Jackson lets out his own high pitched giggle, his eyes sparkling with mirth.   
  
"Dinner tonight?" Jaebum suggests.  
  
"Definitely," Jackson beams, giving Jaebum's hand a squeeze.  
  
The two of them stand there for a moment, just staring into each other's eyes and smiling like idiots until one of Jackson's friend shouts that he's "...fucking hungry! You can stare at your boyfriend some other time, Jackson!", effectively breaking the moment.  
  
"Later," Jackson pecks Jaebum on the lips before he finally runs back to his friends. Jaebum watches him go, waving when Jackson looks back at him over his shoulder.  
  
When Jackson and his friends are out of sight, Jaebum inhales and exhales deeply, his head still spinning and his lips still tingling from their kiss. Unbidden, a laugh bubbles up out of his chest. He shakes his head at himself, turning around, when he sees a very familiar figure leaning against a tree.  
  
"Bravo, I should've just pushed you to do that weeks ago. God only knows why I waited so long," Jinyoung speaks up. "I must say, you really surprised me with that whole 'I'll die if I can't kiss you' thing; well played," he smiles, clapping his hands in a way that's only slightly sarcastic.  
  
Jaebum shakes his head with a chuckle, too ridiculously happy to even feign annoyance. "Good to know that I can still surprise you after sixteen years."  
  
Jinyoung winks at him before he claps once and throws an arm around Jaebum's neck. "Come on, I've only got five hours or so to get you ready for your big date, and we both know you're going to fight me on everything I suggest, good mood or no."  
  
"I'm never letting you cut my hair," Jaebum says flatly. Jinyoung heaves a long suffering sigh and mutters to himself about hopeless cases. Jaebum's lips quirk up before his expression sobers. “I did something brave just now, but I'm still scared out of my mind about what will happen next, that I'll fuck it up, that he'll fuck it up or that it'll just lead to nothing.  
  
"It's okay to be scared, but it's not okay to let that fear control you and prevent you from living your life," Jinyoung says seriously, stopping in place.  
  
"Right, okay," Jaebum mumbles, nodding to himself. "I'll try," he promises.  
  
"Good," Jinyoung nods. "Also, you should probably share that with him too. You're not the only person in the world with insecurities, you know," Jinyoung says pointedly.  
  
"Huh, right," Jaebum nods, trying to imagine how someone who shines as brightly as Jackson could be anything but completely self assured.  
  
"And you should let him see your entire face," Jinyoung runs a hand through the front of Jaebum's fringe.  
  
"Ri–Hey! Fuck off, man," Jaebum pushes his hand away.  
  
"I'm taking that as a yes," Jinyoung flashes him a smile.  
  
Jaebum throws his hands up in protest, but mentally he pictures Jackson staring at his face with pleasant surprise.  
"Eh, fuck it, why not?" Jaebum shrugs.  
  
"Really?" Jinyoung's eyes widen.  
  
Jaebum nods, "Since I'm making changes and starting anew and all that shit."  
  
"Wow, I really should've pushed you ages ago," Jinyoung murmurs in slight awe.  
  
"I agree," Jaebum chuckles as he resumes walking, his steps lighter than they've ever been.


	2. JB/Mark; three little words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 times Mark said 'I love you' and 1 time Jaebum said it.

**–zero–**  
  
Jaebum jolts up in his seat, blinking blearily as his vision swims. A glance at his watch tells him that he only fell asleep for twenty minutes, but that doesn't feel right. Sure enough, when he eases himself out of his worn armchair and pulls back the thick, dark curtains that cover the wall of windows, sunlight comes flooding into the room.  
  
"Ah, shit," he groans, pushing the curtains back with one hand while he rubs white spots out of his sight with the other. With the sun as bright as it is it must at least be midday, how the hell did he end up sleeping so late? Jaebum fishes his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen, to no effect. "The fuck? I could've sworn I charged this yesterday, or was it the day before?" Jaebum mumbles to himself.  
  
At any rate, his dead phone explains why he hasn't had Jinyoung in his business with his pushy concern. No matter how many times Jaebum has made it clear that he's going to have to push himself until he finally gets the PASIV right and seals his contract with the military, his friend keeps insisting on meeting ridiculous demands like eating regularly, getting six hours sleep every night, leaving his house and socialising with people. Jaebum will have time for all that and more if–when–he finishes the device, but for now, he'll carry on. All he has to do now is finish trials to ensure that the gas-tight reciprocating pump accurately measures and dispenses the Somnacin from its vial through the IV infusion line.  
  
"I'm almost there," Jaebum yawns, stretching his arms over his head. He recoils as a sour stench hits his nose. "I guess it couldn't hurt to shower," he says a bit sheepishly.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Jaebum steps out of the shower, having scrubbed away more layers of grime than he thought he could've accumulated just by sitting at his desk for a week. He's drying his hair with a towel when the mechanical beeping of the video intercom goes off. Jaebum frowns. Jinyoung will occasionally drop by to deliver food, but he'll just let himself inside and no one else comes to visit, definitely not without prior notice.  
  
"Uh, hello? This is the residence of Im Jaebum, right? Park Jinyoung sent me," says a man with an innocent face and a foreign accent.  
  
Jaebum cocks an eyebrow, but presses the button to let the man inside. He hangs his towel across the back of his neck and saunters into the living room, not bothering to throw on a shirt. "Since when does Jinyoung send others to do his dirty work?" Jaebum drawls. "And who are you, anyway?"  
  
"Um, since today?" the man shrugs, the movement awkward with his hands full. "And my name is Mark, Mark Tuan," he says as he rests two large plastic bags on the table.  
  
"How do you know Jinyoung? He's never mentioned you to me before," Jaebum runs his eyes up and down the other man's body. Mark crosses his arms over his chest. Distantly, Jaebum is aware that he's being rude, with his questions and general disposition, but he's too thrown off by the new presence to really care enough to correct his behaviour.  
  
"We shared some classes at university, but I went back home after graduation and only returned to Korea about three months ago. That might be why," Mark shrugs. "Plus, Jinyoung said you've been...occupied with work for a while," Mark glances through the open door to Jaebum's work room that's currently littered with spare parts, odd ends and stray bits of metal.  
  
Jaebum steps to the right, blocking the other man's view. "Well, you've done what you came to do, right?" He crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
"Yeah, right," Mark nods. Jaebum stares at him without speaking, his fingers tapping his biceps. "Well, I guess I'll let myself out. It was...interesting to finally meet you, Jaebum," Mark's lips briefly quirk up before he turns and heads for the front door.  
  
"Was I even more prickly than Jinyoung said I was?" Jaebum can't stop himself from calling out.  
  
"Hmmm, no, just about," Mark hums thoughtfully as he opens the door and steps outside, "but you were definitely hotter than I expected," he winks just before he disappears from view, closing the door in front of him.  
  
Jaebum blinks, surprise and amusement and something else coursing through his veins. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Jaebum uncrosses his arms and heads over to the table to see what Jinyoung sent him this time.  
  
  
**–one–**  
  
"To Im Jaebum's unfailing dedication and hard work!"  
  
"To pushing the boundaries of known science!"  
  
"To being filthy rich at twenty seven!"  
  
Yet another drink is pushed into Jaebum's hand, but half of it ends up sloshing to the ground anyway from the force of the pats on the back people keep giving him. He's already drank at least three times his usual two drink limit and has no intention of nursing a hangover on the heels of achieving his ten year dream, so he simply rests the drink on the nearest flat surface and ducks out of the thick of the group before someone can push another one on him. Jaebum is kind of surprised at how many people turned up for this, considering how little effort he put into befriending them back in school. That's almost certainly Jinyoung's doing–Jinyoung and the prospect of a few free rounds.  
  
"Woah!" Jaebum stumbles back as a warm body comes crashing into him.  
  
"Heh heh, whoopsie, sorry," slurs a familiar looking man.  
  
"Mark? Is that you?" Jaebum tilts his head.  
  
"Yes! Oh my God, I can't believe you remember me!" Mark shouts with excitement, his eyes wide and his pupils even wider.  
  
"What can I say, you made an impression," Jaebum chuckles. "Woah, careful there," he reaches out to grab Mark's shoulders, steadying him before he can fall on his face. "How much have you had to drink?"  
  
"I dunno, lots?" Mark sniggers, his face flushed red. "You and Jinyoung are, like, the only people I know here and I've only met you once, and Jinyoung's disappeared somewhere and people keep offering me drinks," he babbles. "Congratulations, by the way."  
  
"Thanks," Jaebum nods, a smile tugging at his lips. He's been hearing the words all night, but Mark says them a bit differently from everyone else.  
  
"Super hot and super smart, you really are a catch," Mark giggles as he leans forward and clumsily wraps his arms around Jaebum's neck. Jaebum's smile widens.  
  
"There you are, Mark," Jinyoung's voice comes from behind. "Oh, well, you two seem to be getting along quite well," Jinyoung grins, his eyes glinting as they take in the way Jaebum and Mark are standing.  
  
"He's smells so good, I love him," Mark titters. He buries his face at the junction of Jaebum's neck and shoulder, "I love yooooou." Jaebum shivers at the tickling sensation of Mark's warm, moist breath against his skin.  
  
"I'm happy for you both," Jinyoung nods distractedly, already scrolling through his phone. "Look after him while I arrange a taxi for him, okay?"  
  
"I could take him home," Jaebum blurts out. Jinyoung looks up from his phone, his left eyebrow climbing into his hairline. "Not like the way people mean when they want to have sex, but–"  
  
"I was not thinking that, actually," Jinyoung's right eyebrow jumps, joining his left one.  
  
"Oh," Jaebum blinks, his face warm from more than just the shots he's downed.  
  
"Who's having sex?" Mark gasps, lifting his head and looking around curiously. "Is it us?" He stage whispers to Jaebum.  
  
Jinyoung's lower lip twitches before his expression smooths out. "If this were any other time, I might not mind, but I am not going to let you skip out on your own celebratory party–not after three years of self imposed solitude," he says in his 'This is final' voice before he dials the number for the taxi.  
  
Jaebum huffs out a sigh before he turns his attention back to the man who is now swaying in his arms. "The music here sucks, but it's okay, we can still dance," Mark mumbles, his lips brushing Jaebum's ears.  
  
Making a snap decision, Jaebum reaches a hand into the other man's pockets and fishes out his phone. Luckily, it doesn't require a password to unlock. Still, Jaebum lightly tugs on a stray lock of Mark's hair, "That's sloppy; you should protect your shit." Mark hums in response, his eyes drooping as he rests his head on Jaebum's shoulder. Jaebum has only just enough time to save his name and leave a (horribly misspelled) message before Jinyoung turns back to them.  
  
"I'm gonna see him off now. You had better be talking and laughing with people by the time I get back," Jinyoung narrows his eyes at Jaebum as he wraps an arm around Mark's waist to support him. Jaebum nods obediently. "Good."  
  
"Bye-bye, Jaebum," Mark waves.  
  
"See you later," Jaebum waves back, lazy grin stretching across his face. 'Hopefully,' he thinks.  
  
  
**–two–**  
  
"Ugh, where's this box supposed to go again?" Jaebum leans his back against a wall and lifts his knee to support the cardboard box in his arms.  
  
"Move your hands, I can't see the label," Mark crouches down in front of him, trying to get a good look at the underside of the box. "It says 'Misc'. Hmmm, that could mean any number of things."  
  
" _Mark_ ," Jaebum groans, throwing his head back.  
  
"Best to just drop it in the extra room for now," Mark straightens up and nudges Jaebum forward with a pat on the ass.  
  
"You know, we could've just hired a company to do all this for us. We can more than afford it," Jaebum calls over his shoulder as he heads into the spare room and sets the box down at last.  
  
"Yeah, but penny pinching is how people actually stay rich," Mark counters. "Besides, hiring someone feels a bit too impersonal for this. This is  _our_  new house, we should be the ones to move and merge our stuff together," Mark smiles, his chest puffing out slightly. Jaebum can't help the matching smile that spreads across his face.  
  
"Yeah, you're right," he nods.  
  
"Of course I am," Mark pats him on the chest condescendingly. "Plus, you spent how many years toiling away school and slaving over your dream device, you can make it through one single weekend of unpacking without being a baby about it," Mark playfully sticks out his tongue. Jaebum grabs him by the waist and sucks that tongue into his mouth before Mark can retract it.  
  
"Alright, but let's take a break first," Jaebum mumbles against Mark's lips.  
  
"Whatever happened to your sterling work ethic?" Mark moans. Even so, Jaebum feels hands gripping his hair and clutching at his back.  
  
"You know what they say about all work and no play," Jaebum blindly shuffles backward, stopping and letting himself fall when his shin hits something soft.  
  
"You've got ten minutes," Mark groans, his eyes rolling inside his head as Jaebum's lips attack his neck and a hand slips inside his sweatpants.  
  
"Twenty," Jaebum counters, moving his lips down to Mark's collarbone.  
  
"Ten," Mark says flatly, not even bothering to open his eyes.  
  
"Pffft, whatever, as if you're gonna be able to keep track of time anyway," Jaebum scoffs before he tackles Mark to the sofa.  
  
It's cramped and awkward with their skin sticking to the leather, there's barely any room to manoeuvre and the curtains haven't been put over the glass wall behind the sofa, but the magic of the their naked bodies joining for the first time in the house they bought together drowns all of that out.  
  
"Ahhh, oh, God, I love you," Mark gasps, his breath hot and wet against Jaebum's ear.  
  
  
**–three–**  
  
"I can't believe it," Jaebum gasps as his eyes catch sight of a certain word in the arts section of his newspaper. "Mark, have you seen this? A local university is considering making the PASIV part of their art and architecture courses!" Jaebum leans across the table, waving the article in front of Mark, but he barely glances up.  
  
"Oh, that's great, good job," Mark drones, his head in his hand.  
  
"What's with you?" Jaebum pouts, deflating slightly.  
  
"Nothing," Mark mumbles. Jaebum reaches out a hand and lifts the other man's chin. There's a sadness in his eyes that makes Jaebum's heart ache.  
  
"Mark, please."  
  
Mark sighs deeply before he shuffles the pile of paper in front of him and holds up a card with fancy gold writing. "My brother's getting married."  
  
"Isn't that a good thing?" Jaebum frowns.  
  
"Well, yeah, it is and I'm happy for him, don't get me wrong..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But I'm also kinda jealous, I guess, since we wouldn't–" he cuts himself off. "Nevermind," he shakes his head, lowering his arm.  
  
"No, is that what's upsetting you, you want us to get married?"  
  
"I'm not...unhappy with the way we are and I could happily continue like this, but it, I dunno, it makes me sad that our relationship will never have the same standing as other couples, even if we've been together much longer."  
  
"Then let's get married," Jaebum says plainly. Mark looks at him as if he's gone mad.  
  
"We can't."  
  
"Not here, no, but there's a place where we can do whatever we want."  
  
Mark's face remains clouded with confusion for a few more seconds before realisation dawns. "Oh."  
  
"Come on, let's go," Jaebum gets up out of his chair and pulls Mark to his feet.  
  
"Where?" Mark asks, letting himself get tugged through the hallway.  
  
"To get married," Jaebum says simply as he retrieves his old PASIV from his work room.  
  
"Now?" Mark laughs lightly, looking equal parts fond and confused.  
  
"Why not?" Jaebum shrugs, setting the device on the table in the living room and pulling out two IV lines.  
  
"You know the dream world still creeps me out, right?" Mark drawls, though he rolls up his sleeve and makes himself comfortable on the sofa.  
  
With one push of the injection activation trigger, the two of them go from dozing on their sofa to standing on a stage in a large hall that's fully decked out with fairy lights and red roses. What really raises Mark's eyebrows isn't just the setting, but also the people in it. If Mark didn't know any better, he'd swear this was actually happening.  
  
"Jaebum, this is amazing," Mark says in a hushed voice.  
  
"But?" Jaebum frowns.  
  
"But it isn't real," Mark sighs wistfully, staring at the projections milling about in the hall as they talk over drinks and canapés.  
  
Jaebum gently squeezes his hand, prompting Mark to look at him. "It's as real as we want it to be," he whispers, leaning in to wrap Mark up in a kiss. When he pulls away, the scenery has changed. The two of them are alone, standing in a large garden that's been decorated with white paper lanterns and flowers.  
  
"Is this...This is my old backyard!" Mark beams as he spins around. "You even made that one weird patch of grass that stays brown no matter what my mother sprays on it," he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "I just wish my parents were here."  
  
"Hey, that's the beauty of the PASIV; you can elope without consequence," Jaebum jokes.  
  
"I don't see a ring," Mark says coyly.  
  
Jaebum smirks and pulls a black box out of his pocket. "With this ring, I do thee wed," he says solemnly, slipping a plain white gold band onto the fourth finger of Mark's left hand. "And I will now kiss the groom," he pulls Mark against him and seals their mouths together.  
  
"I love you," Mark moans into his mouth. "Really," he pulls away just enough to stare into Jaebum's eyes, "thank you for this. It means a lot to me." Jaebum feels his heart softening and fluttering in his chest at the same time. "Come on, time for a scene change. We can't have our honeymoon in my parents' backyard."  
  
Jaebum chuckles, bending down to scoop Mark up bridal style. "Any requests?"  
  
"Somewhere semi public, like the roof of a building? I like the idea of exhibitionism without the exhibition," Mark giggles. "And don't forget to make a bed."  
  
"I never knew that," Jaebum laughs, his eyes scrunching up in delight. "I'm so glad we're not going to be like one of those boring married couples with no surprises or spontaneity."  
  
"Less talking, more building," Mark lightly slaps his chest.  
  
"Another perk of the dream," Jaebum grins, "we've got all the time in the world."  
  
  
**–four–**  
  
'hey, it's me :D just wanted to tell my beloved husband how much i love him ♥♥♥ im stuck in traffic right now and it's driving me crazy :c'  
  
'Omg get off the phone. Haven't you seen all those adverts about texting while driving???'  
  
'im not even moving tho. im literally just sitting in place, may as well turn off the engine  >:| besides, you replied'  
  
'To tell you to get off the phone!!! And I'm not driving so :P'  
  
'omggggg you just used an emoji xD'  
  
'Now will you get off the phone?'  
  
'sure sure, see you at home. love you!♥♥'  
  
  
**–five (one)–**  
  
_"Jaebum, please pick up. I know it's hard, but isolating yourself is the worst thing you can do right now. You don't have to stay long or talk to anyone, but you should at least show your face, accept some human comfo_ – _"_  
  
The phone beeps, cutting off Jinyoung's message. Jaebum expects his phone to rattle with vibrations again, but it sits beside him on his desk, silent as the rest of the house; Jaebum winces. The back of his eyes sting at that thought, but they remain dry. It's been a little over a week and he still hasn't cried yet, mostly because he's been too numb, but even that shield is starting to crumble. There's a wake going on, and the flower arrangements in the corner of his living room are slowly starting to wilt, and he's gotten at least two calls about a will reading, and it's all too real now.  
  
"N-n-no, I can't," Jaebum chokes, struggling to his feet and stumbling towards his work room. He makes a beeline for the small cupboard in the far corner of the room and pulls out a metal case. It's an old prototype, one that hasn't had any maintenance checks performed on it in several years, but Jaebum doesn't hesitate to pull out an IV line. After a few minutes of fumbling, Jaebum is closing his eyes and slumping to the floor as the Somnacin takes effect.  
  
He opens his eyes and finds himself in a garden that's overrun with weeds and littered with yellowed bits of paper.  
  
"Jaebum?"  
  
Jaebum spins on his heel. It's technically only been a week since the last time he saw Mark, but it feels like it's been decades. Jaebum bounds forward and grabs the other man in a tackle. The skin of his cheek is warm against Jaebum's cheek and his body fits in Jaebum's arms exactly the way it used to fit.  
  
"Mark," he breathes, tightening his hold.  
  
"Jaebum, you shouldn't be here," Mark says, even as he wraps his arms around Jaebum's body and holds him back.  
  
"Why? It's where you are," Jaebum buries his face at the junction of Mark's neck and shoulder. If he inhales deeply enough, he can pretend to smell that fresh, masculine scent that clung to Mark's skin.  
  
"You know that's not true, not really."  
  
The truth in his words stab Jaebum in the chest like a dagger made of ice. "I didn't even get to say goodbye," Jaebum croaks, his voice cracking as tears stream down his face. "And there's so many things we didn't get to do."  
  
"I know, and it's not fair, but the time that we did have was good, right?"  
  
"It was great," Jaebum sniffs.  
  
"See?" Jaebum can hear the smile in his voice. "Jaebum, you have to let me go," Mark says softly as he gently runs a hand up and down Jaebum's back, because that's what he would say. "I love you, Jaebum." Jaebum clenches his eyes shut as a pang of longing ripples through his entire body. How tempting it would be to keep going under–or just stay here–so he could hear those words said by that voice over and over again. "I love you, and that's why you have to let me go. I don't want you to die with me."  
  
Jaebum inhales sharply, trying to stave off an influx of tears. "Can I at least stay until the Somnacin runs out?" In response, Mark presses a soft kiss onto both of his cheeks and carefully lowers them both to the ground.  
  
The two of them lie there in each other's arms for what could be twelve minutes or three hours-time is difficult to judge in a dream.  
  
"I miss you so much, it hurts," Jaebum whispers fiercely.  
  
"I know," Mark replies.  
  
"I love you," Jaebum pulls away to stare into Mark's eyes. "I never said it enough. I wish I had told you everyday."  
  
Mark just smiles, brushing a stray tear off Jaebum's cheek. Jaebum closes his eyes and savours the sensation. When he opens his eyes again, he's sprawled out on the floor of his work room, a crick forming in his neck. For a long moment, Jaebum just lies there, his limbs heavy and his mouth dry. The sound of buzzing echoes through his empty house before he hears the front door opening.  
  
"Jaebum, where are you?" It's only Jinyoung, of course. Jaebum eases himself off the floor, his bones cracking, and heads for the living room.  
  
"I want to see him," he says before Jinyoung finishes opening his mouth.  
  
"Oh, well, sure," he nods. "Get dressed, I'll be waiting."  
  
After Jaebum has shaved, brushed his teeth, and washed a week's worth of grease and grime off his skin and hair, he pulls on a black suit and steps into the living room.  
  
"I'm ready," Jaebum tells Jinyoung, but he finds himself hesitating at the door when they finally arrive at the funeral hall.  
  
"Hey," Jinyoung rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, "you can do this." Jaebum nods and steps inside.  
  
He's surprised to find that Mark looks the same as he did in the dream, if somewhat paler. It's unlikely that his body would be displayed if it couldn't be cleaned up, but the description of the crash had Jaebum imaging him as an unrecognizable mess. Jaebum feels something relax in his chest at the sight, even as his heart weeps.  
  
"Sorry I kept you waiting," Jaebum says softly as he eases into a bow. "Thanks for talking sense into me, earlier. First thing I'm gonna do when I get back is destroy the PASIV. After that, I don't know," he shrugs. "I'm gonna have to take the days as they come."  
  
Jaebum falls silent, watching Mark's unnaturally still face for a while. If he lets his eyes go unfocused, he can imagine the slight movement of Mark's chest. He shakes his head.  
  
"I can't stay any longer today, but I promise I won't be gone as long as I was before. Goodbye, Mark. I love you."


	3. Jackson/Jr.; hot work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson and Jinyoung fool around in the practice room after a long night of rehearsing a compromising move.

"Jackson, it is nearly two o'clock in the fucking morning," Jinyoung sighs, burying his sweaty face in his equally sweaty hands when Jackson makes yet another mistake. "We have this, Music Bank filming, and a god damned photo shoot scheduled for tomorrow. Settle down, focus, and get the fucking choreography right."  
  
"I know, I know, and it's not like I'm not trying, I've just got so much pent up nervous energy and it's making me rush ahead," Jackson shrugs helplessly, as if the situation is entirely out of his control. God only knows how he's still got that much energy to spare this late in the day. "Anyway, stop stressing so much, we've done this before and we were great; we'll be just fine," he gives Jinyoung a thumbs up, flashing that annoyingly adorable grin that never fails to draw a smile out him.  
  
"Alright, alright," Jinyoung sighs, fighting to keep the smile off his face, "we'll run through it one more time and then leave it to God."  
  
"That's the spirit," Jackson grins, slapping Jinyoung playfully on the chest. Jinyoung shakes his head, chuckling despite himself. One of the best–and worst–things about Jackson is how easily he can influence someone's mood.  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Jinyoung scoffs lightly.  
  
He runs a hand through his hair, combing his sweaty fringe off his face. He closes his eyes and tilts his head towards the air conditioner, savouring the slight tingling sensation as the cool air hits his forehead. Even with it on full blast, the air in the practice room is thick with the smell of body odour, but it's a small pleasure that helps keep Jinyoung on his feet. When he opens his eyes, he finds Jackson staring at him with a strange glint in his eyes.  
  
"What?" Jinyoung takes a step back, feeling oddly self conscious.  
  
"Nothing," Jackson shakes his head, his lips curling up into a smirk. "One quick question before we start again."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"This will definitely be the last run through that we'll do, right, no matter how many mistakes I make?"  
  
"Uhhh, yes, I suppose that was the deal," Jinyoung says reluctantly. "But you promised to try to get it right," he hastily adds when Jackson's smirk only widens.  
  
"Oh, don't worry. I'll definitely try my  _hardest_ ," he leans forward, huffing the last word in Jinyoung's face. Jinyoung waves one hand in front of face while he pushes Jackson away with the other.  
  
"Just get in position, you weirdo."  
  
Jinyoung moves to get the remote to reset their music, ignoring the high pitched giggle that reverberates through the small room. When he turns back around, Jackson is lying on his side in his infamous pose. Before Jinyoung can say anything, Jackson sits up, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Jinyoung narrows his eyes. Jackson holds his hands up in a pacifying manner before he lies down on his back with his knees up. Jinyoung kneels down and straddles the other man's hips, pulling the oversized shirt he's wearing over Jackson's raised knees. He presses play on the remote and slides it away before the song starts to play.  
  
 _'Tell 'em, Lil Mama!'_  Jinyoung mouths, moving his arms and swaying his upper body to the beat as Jackson taps his legs from side to side. Right when Jinyoung is about to jump up and continue the routine, a pair of hands grabs him by the hips, holding him down.  
  
"Wha–?"  
  
"Sorry, I tried to be good, and I managed to hold out this long, but I can't anymore," Jackson half groans, half whines before he tightens his grip on Jinyoung's hips.  
  
"Jackson, what the fuck are you doing?" Jinyoung gasps as Jackson rolls his hips, pressing a hard bulge against his thigh.  
  
"You've had your ass planted right on my crotch for the better part of the day, what do you think I'm doing?" Jackson thrusts his hips up, sending a jolt of lust through Jinyoung's body.  
  
"But here?  _Now_?" Jinyoung holds Jackson's knees for support as the other man keeps thrusting and grinding.  
  
"Weren't you listening? I can't wait any longer," Jackson thrusts his hips one last time, using the momentum to sit up and tip Jinyoung onto his hands and knees. Before he can blink, one of Jackson's hands moves from his hip and slithers down into his pants. "Besides, you seem to be warming up to the idea." Jackson's smug smirk is practically audible, but Jinyoung is too busy struggling to keep his body upright as it's wracked by pleasure to be annoyed.  
  
"Ahhh, hurry up," he gasps, his hands curling into fists on the hardwood floor as his hips buck forward into Jackson's hand. There will come a day when Jinyoung won't give in to Jackson, but today is not that day. Infuriatingly, Jackson pulls his hand out of Jinyoung's pants. "Jackson," he growls, throwing a glare over his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, you've been teasing me all day. It's not my fault if you can't handle a dose of your own medicine," Jackson shrugs, grinding his erection against Jinyoung's ass.  
  
"Cut the crap and fuck me or I'll find someone who will." He won't, but Jackson is too insecure to call his bluff. Sure enough, Jackson's hands fly to unbutton Jinyoung's pants.  
  
"Alright, calm down, I was just kidding. I already said I was rearing to go."  
  
Jinyoung hears the sound of Jackson unzipping his pants and then a small  _pop_ , before slick fingers start to probe his entrance.  
  
"Wait a minute, did you seriously just happen to have lube in your pocket?" Jinyoung flinches slightly as the air conditioning makes the cool liquid even colder.  
  
"Always be prepared," Jackson leans forward so he can hook his chin over Jinyoung's shoulder. Jinyoung tilts his head so he can cover Jackson's grin with his own lips.  
  
"Hurry up," he says softly.  
  
"Yes, sir," Jackson steals another kiss before sucks at Jinyoung's pulse point, one hand easing himself inside Jinyoung's body while the other lazily strokes Jinyoung's cock.  
  
"Ahhhh," Jinyoung bites his lower lip, his eyes clenching shut as they prickle slightly. He's been stretched enough to allow for Jackson to fit inside him, but not so much that there's no considerable burn with the pleasure. Jinyoung must admit–to himself, lest Jackson become insufferable–that Jackson is really a quick study when it comes to what he likes.  
  
"Oh, fuck, you feel amazing. So tight and hot," Jackson groans. Once he's fully inside Jinyoung, Jackson hammers out a few shallow thrusts, his hand tightening around Jinyoung's erection, before he maintains a steady, languid pace. Jinyoung hisses, trying not to cry out. "Come on, tell me how much you love it."  
  
"You talk too much," Jinyoung grits out through his teeth. Jackson's pace slows to an agonising speed, his hand no longer stroking Jinyoung's cock. "The fuck?" Jinyoung tries to buck his hips backwards, but Jackson holds him in place. As annoyed as he is, a thrill runs through him and his cock twitches at the display of strength.  
  
"I wanna hear it."  
  
Jinyoung heaves a sigh, letting his head drop between his arms. "You weren't lying when you said you win at all things lower body related. Now, work your magic so I can come."  
  
"Say please," Jackson croons. Jinyoung's eye roll is stopped midway, when Jackson delivers one deep, sharp thrust that makes white spots appear in his vision.  
  
"Ah, please! Harder," Jinyoung pants.  
  
He barely gets the words out before his ass is tilted up and Jackson starts drilling him. His chest is heaving, his body is trembling and tears are welling in his eyes; it won't be long now, but Jinyoung still needs that last push before he can tumble over the edge.  
  
"Jackson!" He leans up on his hands, tilting his head to expose the side of his neck. "Jackson, please!" If asked, Jinyoung would claim that the needy whine in his voice was a deliberate and calculated manipulation tactic, in no way due to a loss of control.  
  
"I got you, baby," Jackson grunts before he sucks at Jinyoung's neck and sinks his teeth into the offered flesh, his hips moving faster in one final burst of energy.  
  
"Uhahhh!" Jinyoung throws his head back so hard that he's probably given himself a crick. "Oh, shit," his arms finally give out and he slumps to the floor. Jackson is right behind him, hot breath beating down on his neck as Jackson's body convulses.  
  
For a long moment, the two of them just lie on the floor, their heated skin gradually cooling and their short breaths slowly becoming even. Jinyoung's senses finally return to him just as he's starting to drift off on the floor. The thought of him falling asleep here and being discovered with his pants around his knees and come trails on the back of his thighs make him sit up with a jolt, knocking Jackson off his back.  
  
"Ouch, abuse," Jackson whines pitifully.  
  
"Come on, let's head back to the dorm," Jinyoung says, already on his feet and making himself decent. "Get up," he lightly kicks Jackson in the thigh.  
  
Jackson pushes himself to his feet with a loud groan, tucking himself back inside his pants. "Alright, I'm up," he grabs Jinyoung by the arms and pulls him into a kiss, his arms squeezing Jinyoung around the waist. Even after he pulls away, he makes sure to keep one arm around Jinyoung.  
  
"If I wasn't fucking you myself, I might be surprised to hear how clingy you get afterwards," Jinyoung shakes his head.  
  
"You should be glad for it. It keeps me from being too repulsed by the fact that your asshole is gonna be crusted with come by the time we make it back to the dorm," Jackson smiles sweetly.  
  
"Remind me to 'accidentally' break your dick when I have to sit on you again later," Jinyoung drawls. Jackson plants a wet kiss on his cheek.


	4. Jackson/JB; Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum develops some bad habits as he tries to forget about Jackson. Inspired by Tove Lo's song.

A loud rattling noise drags Jaebum out of his sleepy haze. He's lying facedown on the living room floor, his shoes half off his feet. Sitting up, he wipes flakes if dry saliva off the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He picks up his phone right when it stops vibrating and sees that there are four missed calls—three from Jinyoung, one from Youngjae—and one voice mail message (probably from Jinyoung). Jaebum pockets his phone.  
  
Easing himself to his feet, Jaebum does a few stretches to work out the kinks in his neck and back from sleeping on the floor, then he trudges off to the bathroom to wash the taste of death out of his mouth. His left hand monotonously moves up and down and side to side while his right hand massages his temple. The man in the mirror has lines and wrinkles on his face that didn't exist six months ago, his dull, bloodshot eyes framed by dark circles. The movement of his left hand gradually slows to a halt as Jaebum's eyes lose focus.  
  
"JB, did you fall asleep on your feet again? You're so useless in the morning," Jackson giggles, his big brown eyes sparkling and his nose scrunching up cutely as he rests his head on Jaebum's shoulder.  
  
Jaebum shakes his head, blinking hard; he's alone when he opens his eyes. As his head is spinning, he inadvertently shoves his toothbrush too far into the back of his mouth. A wave of nausea is his only warning before clear liquid and partially digested food force their way up his throat.  
  
"Ahhh, you drank too much, Jeff. You're still drunk right now, aren't you?"  
  
"Shut up," Jaebum coughs, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he clenches them shut. "You're not even here."  
  
When he's finished heaving, Jaebum turns on the tap, washing his sick down the sink, rinsing his mouth and splashing his face. Back in his bedroom, he strips off his coat and hangs it up in his walk in closet. Beams of red orange light stream into the room through his large, West-facing window; Jaebum steps up to it and rests his forehead on the cool glass. The throbbing in his head ebbs slightly, so Jaebum shifts to press his temple to the glass.  
  
"I gotta smile whenever I see a sunset," Jackson's face stares back at him from the glass. "That was when we first kissed. Do you remember that? How could you not, it was like something out of a drama -"  
  
Jaebum steps back and yanks the curtain over the window, plunging the room in darkness. Stalking into the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and grabs a can of beer, ignoring the half eaten box of takeaway food (that's probably gone bad anyway). The beer is exactly what he needed. His eyes slip shut and a low moan escapes his throat as he drains the can. His phone vibrates in his pocket when he's started on the second can; Jaebum ignores it. He finally fishes it out of his pocket when he's lounging in his leather armchair and sipping on his third beer. There's a missed call from Bambam, his junior from university.  
  
 _"Yo, JB, what's up? It's been a minute since we last hung out. Yugyeom and I are calling around, checking to see who's up for a night of epic partying now that our exams are over and we're FREE! Call or text if you're interested. Laters."_  
  
Jaebum can't help but chuckle at the younger man's exuberance, even if he is a bit annoyed that that stupid nickname has spread from—  
  
"Oh, come off it. ‘JB’ is a cool name and I'm glad it's caught on. I know you secretly like it. Just remember that I'm the only one who can call you ‘Jeff’," Jackson's face appears in the screen of his phone. "That's my special name for you," he winks.  
  
Jaebum dials Bambam's number.  "I'm in."  
  
  
  
  
"Holy shit, what did you put in those drinks?!" Jaebum cackles, his head thrown back. "I can, I can hear the lights and see the music!"  
  
The blinding flash of the strobe and the pounding beats all swirl together in Jaebum's mind, forming a whirlwind of stimuli. "This is fucking amazing!"  
  
God only knows who he's talking to, he can't see well enough to make out anything but blobs of colour on an inky black backdrop.  
  
"It's so hot though, it's too hot. I thought—I'm pretty sure I had a coat before, but why would I wear a coat when it's so hot?" Jaebum mumbles to himself as he stumbles around, catching hands and elbows as he goes. "Woah, this is...really different. I don't know how I feel about it."  
  
"Heeeey, JB!" Jaebum blinks in surprise as a hand grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around. "The munchkins really cast a wide net tonight." Jaebum tilts his head, narrowing his eyes until the man in front of him sharpens into focus. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already?" Jaebum's eyes widen. The man's voice is deeper than he remembered and he's gotten taller, but there's no mistaking him.  
  
"No, no, of course not!" Jaebum lunges forward and grabs the other man in a hug. "I couldn't forget you if I tried," he closes his eyes, burying his face in the other man's neck. He's also changed his cologne of choice, but he still favours that earthy, masculine scent that Jaebum loves.  
  
"Look, I know this is kind of awkward, and it might be the liquor talking, but do you wanna get out of here, maybe?"  
  
It's hard to hear over the music, but he sounds hesitant. Jaebum could laugh at the idea of turning him down. He pulls away just enough to devour the other man's lips.  
  
"I'd love to," Jaebum breathes into his mouth.  
  
Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the racing of his blood or maybe it's just a short trip to the other man's place, but to Jaebum it feels like he simply had to turn around three times before he's falling backward onto a bed. The other man is on him before he even stops bouncing, their lips melding together in a sloppy kiss. Jaebum buries his hands in the other man's thick, dark hair, moving them around to ruin the styled quiff.  
  
"Oh, shit, we need to get naked. I don't think I can hold out much longer," he groans.  
  
Jaebum complies, chuckling to himself as he fumbles with the buttons on his shirt and wiggles out of his trousers. If he felt hot before then he's practically on fire when the bare skin of their bodies finally make contact. It's clumsy and frantic and he'll probably have bruises on his thigh from the zipper digging into it with each thrust of the other man's hips, but a wide grin stretches Jaebum's face as his eyes roll in the back of his head.  
  
"Oh, oh, oh, JB, I—Ah!"  
  
Streams of hot, viscous liquid splash onto Jaebum's torso. It only takes a few more thrusts to send him over the edge as well, white spots appearing in his vision as he calls out the other man's name.  
  
"Ah, fuck, that was...wow," Jaebum pants, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.  
  
The other man's warm, heavy weight settles on top of his chest. Jaebum loosely wraps his right arm around his wide shoulders while his left hand gently cards through the other's hair. "I'm so glad you came back," Jaebum murmurs, his eyes slipping shut.  
  
  
  
  
Jaebum blinks his eyes open, immediately squinting at the bright light burning his retinas. He throws an arm over his face and rolls onto his side, his back facing the uncovered window. He's not the only one who's unhappy with the sun, judging by the way his bed mate has his face covered under sheets. Jaebum smiles fondly at the tufts of dark hair sticking out from under the sheets.  
  
"Hey, you," Jaebum says softly, hooking a finger and gently pulling away the sheet; he freezes.  
  
The hair and the jaw line are eerily similar, but the nose is too pointed, the cheeks not full enough, the lips not pouty enough, the skin a touch too dark. Jaebum doesn't need to see the other man's eyes to know that they won't be the wide, warm chocolate brown ones that stopped him in his tracks the first time they met.  
  
"Fuck," Jaebum scrambles off the bed, hastily buttoning his shirt and jumping into his trousers. The other man—Song something from International Business Relations—stirs in bed, but Jaebum doesn't stick around long enough to find out if he wakes up.  
  
Jaebum is hit with the bracing February air the second he steps out of the lobby of the building. He wraps his arms around himself as he hurries to the nearest bus stop. He didn't see his coat lying on Song's floor with the rest of his clothes and he didn't have the presence of mind to borrow one before he left, so Jaebum is stuck in shivering in his silk shirt. A quick check of his pockets tells him that he still has his keys and his phone, no luck with his wallet.  
  
"Fuck, I'll have to cancel all my cards and get a replacement licence," Jaebum groans, running a hand through his hair. "God only knows if my car is still parked hy the club," he sighs. "Whatever, I'll deal with that later."  
  
Vibrations ripple down his left leg as his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's a text from Bambam.  
  
'u alright? where'd u go last night?'  
  
'Im fine, just had too much to drink'  
  
'did u finally get some? ;)'  
  
Jaebum shoves his phone back in his pocket, resisting the urge to vomit. It's not that he had a one night stand—unusual as that is for him—that makes him sick. No, it's the extent of his desperation to try to forget about Jackson, how quick he jumped to believe that Jackson came back despite the evidence against him. Jinyoung has been nagging at him for his drinking for weeks, and now even Youngjae has graduated from shooting him sad, sympathetic looks to offering his ear and shoulder. Jaebum didn't think that he needed to talk—or cry—about anything, but now he has to wonder. Look at him now, ambling down the street after an all night binge, looking like he just got jumped. What would his mother think if she could see him? What would Jackson—  
  
Jaebum stops. In his pockets, his hands curl into fists, the metal of his keys biting the skin of his palm. Looking around, he spots a McDonald's on the other side of the street. Jaebum crosses the road and ducks inside it, heading towards the toilet and locking himself in the first empty stall he finds. He pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number that he hasn't rang in about six months. It rings without answer and goes to voice mail, but Jaebum expected that.  
  
"Hey, it's me. I know you might delete this message without even listening to it, but this is honestly more for me than you anyway," Jaebum pauses, taking a deep breath. "...I just wanted to say that, that I miss you—so fucking much. You're all that's on my mind, even when I'm completely out of it— _especially_  then," Jaebum's voice cracks, his chest heaving with restrained sobs. "I still love you, I can't stop," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry I ever gave you a reason to doubt that; I should never have taken you for granted.  I'm shit without you and I just—"  
  
His phone beeps, the time limit for the voice message reached. Jaebum wipes the tears off his face and blows his nose before he exits the stall and steps outside the store. Either it's gotten slightly warmer in the ten minutes he's been inside or he's too numb to fully feel the cold.  
  
  
  
  
"Did you see the way he looked at me when he said that we could  _always_  come to him for help? He was flirting with me," Jackson gushes, his brown eyes shining beautifully in the red orange light of the setting sun.  
  
Jaebum can't help but smile at his friend's adorable antics, even as he rolls his eyes at his words. "Jackson, he's seven years older than you. And a teacher," he says plainly.  
  
"So?" Jackson scoffs.  
  
His misplaced nonchalance finally tips the scale of Jaebum's mood. "Look, I know you've got your weird  _ahjusshi_  fetish, but your fantasies need to stay fantasies. First of all, you don't even know if he likes guys. Secondly, I doubt a man who graduated university three years ago would be interested in a boy who hasn't even finished high school. Thirdly, even if he was interested, that would make him a fucking pervert," Jaebum snaps, counting his points off on his fingers.  
  
Jackson pouts, his cheeks puffing out. Jaebum gets the impulsive urge to poke them with his fingers. "Oh, don't be such a killjoy,  _Jeff_ ," Jackson sulks, turning his face away. "You never let me have any fun."  
  
Irritation spikes in Jaebum's blood. He grabs Jackson by the shoulders and spins him around on the spot.  "I'm looking out for you! I know you like to think the best of everyone—that's one of your charms—and Taecyeon seems like an alright guy, but there are people out there in the world who will take advantage of your kind and trusting nature," his fingers tighten their grip and Jackson blinks owlishly. "I don't want you to become cold and cynical—that's my job—but you have to be more careful, okay?" Jaebum pants, feeling as shocked with himself as Jackson looks.  
  
An odd silence stretches between the two of them as they both stare at other. Belatedly, Jaebum realises that he's well inside Jackson's personal space (which isn't usually a thing of note, but right now it feels so much different). He straightens up and takes a step back, coughing slightly. Jackson just stares at him, uncharacteristically silent. Jaebum desperately wills him to say something, anything.  
  
"Hyung," he says softly, "do you like me?" 

Jaebum swallows hard. Several responses immediately pop into his head—"Of course, you're my best friend", "Yeah, though God only knows why I put up with your crap", "What are you saying? Don't make things weird"—but Jaebum finds that he doesn't want to say any of them. He doesn't say anything at all, just closes his eyes and leans forward.

  
"Ow!" Jackson's hand flies up to cradle his nose.  
  
"Oh, shit, sorry," Jaebum gasps, idly tonguing the small cut on the inside of his lip. His assumption that his embarrassment couldn't possibly worsen is proved false when Jackson's shoulders start to shake with laughter; his stomach churns.  
  
"Come here," Jackson cups Jaebum's cheeks and tilts his head down.  
  
Jaebum blinks and then Jackson's soft lips are pressing against his. Jaebum closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Jackson's waist, the churning in his stomach morphing into fluttering, his legs trembling like they're bursting with static electricity.  
  
"Wow," he gasps as he pulls away for air a few minutes later.  
  
"Yeah," Jackson grins radiantly. "But don't think it's skipped my mind that you haven't given an answer to my question," he says indignantly, poking Jaebum on the nose.  
  
"What? Oh," Jaebum rolls his eyes, half fond, half exasperated.  
  
"I wanna hear it," Jackson insists, his cheek twitching in that way it does when Jackson is trying not to smile.  
  
Jaebum pulls him in an embrace and whispers into his ear, "I really, really like you."  
  
Jackson squeezes him back, dropping a kiss on his neck before he rests his head on Jaebum's shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
"Wha?" Jaebum grunts, his arm flailing out to grab his phone as it rattles noisily on the bedside table.  
  
He's got one new text message. Jaebum mistypes his own password three times before he's able to unlock his phone and check the message. It's from Jackson. Jaebum shoots up, fully awake. He clutches his phone in his hand for a long moment, too anxious—good and bad—–to actually open the message. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he taps the screen.  
  
'I got your message'  
  
Jaebum stares, his breath stuck in his throat, simultaneously relieved and strung out. Jackson not outright deleting the message once he saw who it from, listening to it and sending a response are all good signs, but what is Jaebum meant to say to that? Is Jackson even expecting a reply? Worrying his lower lip, Jaebum types out a response. His thumb hovers over the send button for so long the back light timer runs out and the screen dims. Jaebum presses the power button and taps the screen.  
  
'Can we talk?'


	5. Jackson/JB; first time for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is the newest permanent employee at JYP Adult Entertainment. He bottoms for the first time when he's paired up for a film with Jaebum, an exclusive top and new transfer to JYP.

One of the lesser known aspects of life in adult entertainment? Lots and lots of paperwork—script read-throughs, personal physical health assessments, personal mental health assessments, waivers and release forms, etc. etc., etc. Or maybe that’s just a JYP thing. I’ve only been doing porn—or ‘adult films’, as Boss Jinyoung insist on calling it—for three months, and it’s not like I’ve bothered asking about standard operating procedures in other companies to really be sure. Either way, I’m reading through and comparing the terms of my permanent contract with my temporary contract when I get an email from the boss.

 

 

Jackson,

 

I’d like to see you at my office later this evening at half past five.

 

Regards,

 

Park Jinyoung

C.E.O. & Director

JYP Adult Entertainment

 

 

It’s as drab and sterile as any other message he’s sent me, despite my insistence that he at least throw in a smiley face or two, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s upset with me. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about taking me on for good, or maybe one of the senior performers had some kind of complaint about me. I really can’t afford to lose this job—at least not until I can get another one—and even though fucking on camera is actually not quite as fun as I thought it’d be, it definitely pays better than being a fucking waiter.

 

“Jackson, chill,” I shake my head to get rid of thoughts of rent and living expenses and being homeless in a foreign country. “It’s probably nothing.”

 

To ease my mind, I steal a yoghurt drink from my housemate’s side of the fridge and down it one go. Honestly, I’m not _really_ stealing it. The thing expires today and the guy won’t be back from his trip for another week, and it would be a shame to waste perfectly good food by just letting it to go bad. Nodding to myself, I head back to my desk and busy myself for the rest of the afternoon with the tedious, soul-draining process of sending out job applications.

 

 

 

 

JYP Adult Entertainment—or JYPorn as I like to call it—is mid-sized company that has been producing blue movies since films were sold in VHS format. Though it’s apparently fallen behind its two main competitor studios, JYP has managed to stay relevant with charismatic and loveable performers who have a knack for inspiring great loyalty in its remaining patrons. Before joining its ranks, I could be called one of those patrons.

 

(Yes, I actually spent money on porn in the year 2015. I didn’t even watch the damned thing. Even though he’s legal—and I definitely know he is now, because I’ve since seen his passport—the kid just looked too young for me to be comfortable with that.)

 

Three months on, it’s still a bit weird to walk the halls and see some of the performers doing normal, human things like taking a nap in the break room, or reading a book in between takes or looking a mess in the morning before the stylists make them over.

 

“Hey, Jackson!” I turn my head and see Taecyeon’s tall, bulky figure jogging up to me. “You look a bit lost, is everything alright?” he pats me on the back.

 

“I might have forgotten how to get to the boss’s office,” I admit with a sheepish grin.

 

Taecyeon shakes his head at me, before he grabs me by the shoulders and turns me in the right direction. I expect him to leave after that, but he walks with me down the hall. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but your probation is almost up, right?”

 

“Yeah, I’m looking over the permanent contract and getting ready to sign it.”

 

“Are you trying to decipher the complicated lawyer talk or are you having doubts?” he asks in a tone that lets me know he thinks it’s the latter.

 

“It’s not like I grew up want to be a pornstar,” I cross my arms, feeling defensive.

 

“Nobody does,” Taecyeon says, looking a bit wistful. “If you’re worried about being locked into this job, unable to get a ‘real’ job until your contract expires, I can tell you that that’s the last reason not to sign on. You wouldn’t be the first person in this company to break contract to pursue other endeavours. The boss is very understanding about that sort of thing, especially when it comes to our foreign members of staff,” Taecyeon ruffles my hair.

 

“Huh, really?” I already feel less anxious about this meeting.

 

“Well, here we are,” he gestures to the door in front of us. “Just remember that there’s no contract in the world that can’t be broken. See you around, hopefully,” he waves before he heads back.

 

“Thanks, Taec,” I return his wave. “Alright, meeting time.”

 

As it turns out, the meeting has nothing to do with his contract renewal—well, not really.

 

“Im Jaebum, a performer from another company, will be transferring here next month, and I thought you would be the perfect one to co-star in his debut film,” Boss Jinyoung punctuates his announcement with a few seconds of clapping.

 

“Wait, what? Im Jaebum? And me? The both of us, _together_?”

 

The boss just looks at me like I’ve dribbled on my shirt like a toddler, but what rookie in this business wouldn’t be surprised at getting put to work with him? It’d be like if some contestant on one of those singing shows got to cut a track with Rhianna for their debut single. Also, I’m wondering how that’s going to work.

 

Though I haven’t seen all of Jaebum’s filmography (just eighty percent or so), one thing that stands out is the fact that the guy never seems to bottom. At this point I just figured it was written into his contract or something. Some guys do that, apparently, and Jaebum—or the persona he puts on in films, anyway—practically has ‘I’m an alpha male’ tattooed on his forehead. Dominance practically seeps out of his pores, both in still photos and video reel, and he’s almost always paired up with younger, pretty boy types. He and I are the same age, and although I’m no stranger to being called cute, I’m a lot more muscled than the guys Jaebum usually works with.

 

“Yes, the both of you, together,” Boss Jinyoung repeats in a way that lets me known I’m being patronised. Ignoring my pout, he carries on. “It’s to be a continuation of our School Days series. The two of you will play roommates at university.”

 

Ah, one of the classic set-ups, and the perfect sort of first project to ease someone into a new company, even if they are an industry veteran. Not to mention, school scenes are the only ones I can really say I’m good at doing.

 

“Your character will be a bit of an odd ball who’s perfectly fine with doing things like walking around naked or even masturbating even while Jaebum’s character is in the room.”

 

I can’t help but snort at that. By that line of thinking, the very nature of this job makes me and Jaebum, and even wise and caring Taecyeon, all odd balls. But then again, maybe we are.

 

“In contrast to your character, who’s comfortable with and open about his sexuality, Jaebum’s character will be flustered by that sort of behaviour as he struggles with wrapping his mind around the idea that he’s now attracted to a man.”

 

“And then I seduce him, or he eventually gets over it and admits he wants me, happy times ensue,” I nod knowingly.

 

“Basically,” Boss Jinyoung holds his hands out with his palms up. “The highlight will, of course, be the scene where you consummate your relationship.”

 

God only knows why Boss Jinyoung insists on using such flowery and stuffy language when talking about sex. He runs a porn business for fuck’s sake.

 

“Where Jaebum’s character accepts himself and lets me fuck him,” I nod.

 

Boss Jinyoung presses his lips into a thin line and gives me an annoyed look for a second before he speaks again. “No, Jaebum’s character will not be bottoming for you. You will be bottoming for him.”

 

“Wait, I’m gonna what?”

 

Although it wasn’t something that was written in my temporary contract, I kind of just assumed that they wouldn’t ask me to do anything that involved anal penetration. Shit, it was the first thing I asked about in my interview. One disastrous attempt with my first boyfriend, that left me with nothing but an embarrassing trip to A&E and an even more humiliating talk with my parents, kinda killed any desire for me to ever try it again.

 

“If you agree to take the project, he would top you. Not bottoming is a stipulation of his contract,” the boss explains with a shrug.

 

“Yeah, okay, I get that you, like, have legal shit to uphold, but why not put him someone like Jinyoung, or Youngjae, or Bambam? Why _me_?”

 

“Customer satisfaction. As you know, I like to read through the comments section on all of the videos we release, and over the past three months, I’ve noticed that a lot of our patrons have a strong desire to see you bottom, partially because of your bottom,” he chuckles a bit at his own joke. “They say that it’s gorgeous and that it’s such a shame that someone hasn’t worshipped it.”

 

“Yes, well, I have my days as an athlete to thank for that,” I rub the back of my neck. I was always a sucker for being complemented, particularly for my lower body.

 

“So, I figured that this would be the perfect opportunity to give the people what they want. There’s no real census on who should top you, so I figured that it wouldn’t really be satisfying to do this with anyone else that I have on staff. Jaebum, on the other hand, already has a reputation, and you’ve never worked together before, so there’s that fresh, mysterious aspect to this collaboration.”

 

“It’s just…Do I have to do it? What would you do if I said this was my line in the sand?”

 

“I’d have to get Jinyoung or Youngjae or Bambam to do it,” he shrugs. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I told you that when you first started working here, and I meant it. I’m not a monster.”

 

“Yeah, no, I know that, I just have to—”

 

“I understand,” he says simply. It’s times like these when I feel a rush of appreciation for the old man, and thankful for the fact that I ended up at his company, even if doing porn wasn’t part of my original career plan. “You don’t have to decide right here and now. Jaebum’s transfer won’t be finalised for another two weeks or so anyway.”

 

“Right,” I nod, chewing on my lower lip. I take that as my cue that I’m free to go and get up out of the chair.

 

“While you’re thinking it over, don’t forget to take into account the extra money you’ll make from this project, should you choose to accept it.”

 

“Extra money?” I turn back to his desk at Boss Jinyoung’s words.

 

He nods. “There’s a lot of anticipation for Jaebum’s first video post-transfer, both from his old fans and our own patrons. The overall traffic to our website has seen a fifteen percent increase ever since the announcement was made, and the hits on our previews page has shot up,” he explains.

 

“Can you put a number on that anticipation?”

 

“After streaming, ads, and DVD sales, I’d say five million Won.”

 

“Five million?” I can feel my eyebrows trying to jump into hairline.

 

“Conservative estimate. And if the two of you work well together, you could add to your fan base, do more scenes and films with him and accumulate more.”

 

I close my mouth when I feel my tongue getting dry. “That is something to think about,” I nod as I turn to leave his office. I won’t give him my answer until I absolutely have to, but I think I already know what I’m going to say.

 

 

 

 

Jinyoung, not to be confused with Boss Jinyoung, is one of my co-workers at JYP. He’s one of the few people in the industry who seems to whole heartedly love his job and will probably be sad when he’s forced to retire. Not that the rest of us are all sad sacks who cry and/or drink themselves to sleep at night, but even something as inherently awesome as sex can get tedious when it’s done professionally. Jinyoung doesn’t seem to get tired of it though, and he rarely has one of _those_ days, when a performer just can’t get into a scene, to everyone’s frustration. The shooting staff think it’s because he actually studied acting at school and has a natural talent for taking on a character’s emotions. The performing staff think it’s because he’s a secret nympho who uses work as a way of self-medicating. Whatever the reason, he’s probably the best person I could go to for advice.

 

Maybe I should’ve just stuck with the usual and just suggested we get some cheap street food on the way to the train station, but I thought I might be able to get his advice—and, more importantly, his silence— if I sprung for something a bit fancier; after all, Jinyoung enjoys the finer things in life. The restaurant we’re sitting in has a tablecloth and actual cutlery and freaking wine glasses set out on the table, and the prices aren’t listed on the menu. I’m already regretting my choice.

 

“So, how has that new series with Yugyeom been going?” I ask as we wait for Jinyoung’s meal to be served. Assuming the worst, I figure I will only be able to afford food for one person.

 

“You know that I don’t like to talk badly about any of our co-workers, but that kid is driving me mad,” Jinyoung groans, sipping at his wine. “He hasn’t even been nineteen for a month, and he acts like he knows everything, like I’m being ridiculous when I try to teach him things.”

 

I’ve worked with Yugyeom once before and I didn’t have any trouble at all, but I nod and hum sympathetically. “That must be so frustrating. Do you want me to take him aside and talk to him about being more respectful to his seniors?”

 

Maybe that last offer was the prod that finally burst the bubble, because Jinyoung narrows his eyes at me. “Okay, I’ve been waiting for you to just ask ever since you suggested we come here, but it looks like I’m going to have to drag it out of you myself. What do you want?”

 

In the three days since I officially agreed to do the film with Jaebum, I’ve been trying to come up with ways to breach this subject delicately. “How do you take it up the ass?” ‘Trying’ being the operative word.

 

Jinyoung gives me that same look Boss Jinyoung gives me on set when he thinks I’m fucking up a scene. “How do…wait, a minute, does this have anything to do with Im Jaebum, exclusive top, transferring to our company?”

 

Shit, I didn’t think he’d put it together that quickly. “It might,” I shrug, going for casual.

 

“Ahhh, so that’s why you’ve been meeting with Park PD,” Jinyoung says smugly.

 

I sigh. “Yes, you got me. We’re due to start filming in two weeks, and if I don’t find out how to get fucked, I’m gonna _be_ fucked. You’re the expert, what should I do?”

 

“You know, you didn’t have to do all this just to get my advice,” Jinyoung leans his cheek in one hand while he gestures to the restaurant with his other hand.

 

“It’s not just your advice I want, it’s your discretion. Everyone else will eventually find out about it, but I don’t want anyone to here that I asked for your help—or anything else I’m gonna tell you.”

 

“Oh, now I’m really intrigued,” Jinyoung cocks an eyebrow.

 

“Look,” I sigh, dropping my eyes to the table top, “the last time I let someone fuck me, it was painful and horrible and I bled from my ass,” I finish the rest of my sentence in a rush. After a few seconds of silence, I glance up at Jinyoung to see him staring at me with something that looks like pity.

 

“As much as I’d like to have a laugh at your expense, you clearly have some kind of trauma about this,” his tone is all soft and concerned, and his eyes look vaguely misty, and there is no way in hell that we’re going down that road.

 

“Dude, it’s not that serious. I don’t need therapy, I just need to know how to prepare my ass so I don’t bleed the next time I get a cock shoved inside it,” I say bluntly.

 

“Alright, if you say so,” Jinyoung says airily, but not-pity still lingers in his expression. He pauses to allow the waiter to rest his plate of food on the table. “Would you like me to tell you what to do to properly stretch yourself, or would you like me to give you a practical demonstration?”

 

It’s a testament to how different the two of us are that it, apparently, doesn’t even occur to Jinyoung that he should say that last part of the sentence with some kind of leer or suggestive wink. God knows I couldn’t not do it.

 

“I was just thinking you could tell me what to do, but now that you say it, yeah, I guess showing me would be better,” I nod.

 

“What’s a good time for you?” Jinyoung asks before he swallows a mouthful of something I can’t pronounce. 

 

“Are you free tonight?” Jinyoung’s eyebrows jump. “I kinda just want to get it over with, do it before I can pussy out and change my mind.” Jinyoung nods thoughtfully, and then starts laughing out of nowhere. “What?”

 

“Did we accidentally go on a date?” he chuckles, his eyes disappearing.

 

Unbidden, a laugh sputters past my lips. “Huh, yeah, I guess so. Though, this isn’t the kind of place I’d take a date to.”

 

“I guess that just means that I’m special,” Jinyoung curls his hands into fists and places them by his cheeks.

 

“Then, hurry up and eat, so we can get to the main attraction of the evening,” I throw a wink at him. Bottoming feels a bit less daunting now that I’ve found a way to wrap it up in a jest, but I really do want to get it over with now so I can get it over with later.

 

It takes us an hour and a half to get down to it—we first have to stop by Jinyoung’s place to get supplies, because there’s no way I’m doing this in someone else’s house; then, we have to get over to my place and have a quick shower (separately, of course)—and it feels like my first day on set. Jinyoung lays out cylindrical items of varying colours and sizes on my bed, along with packs of condoms and bottles of lube.

 

“Would you like me to stretch you or should I let you watch me stretch myself?” he asks, the honest curiosity in his expression a stark contrast to the sultriness of his tone. We haven’t even started and he’s already halfway into his filming persona.

 

“Uh, well, I guess you’d better just stretch me, it’s not like I’ve never seen you stretch yourself before. I mean…you know what I mean,” I give myself a shake, reminding myself that there’s no reason to be nervous with Jinyoung.

 

He lips quirk up in a smirk. “Take a seat, then,” he gestures to the bed with a jerk of his head.

 

Right. The moment of truth. I take a deep breath before I shuffle across the room and drop down on my bed.

 

“On your stomach,” Jinyoung directs me to lie down with a pillow propping up my ass.

 

In the corner of my eye, I see him pouring lube onto his hands. My throat is now dry. I bury my face in my sheets and wait for the inevitable. Jinyoung’s slicked fingers soon touch me, but not exactly where I was expecting them, unless my asshole has moved to my shoulders.

 

 “Okay, the first thing you need to do is relax,” Jinyoung’s hums into my ear as he kneads my shoulders, his voice nothing but honey.

 

I appreciate the effort he’s putting into this, but that is much easier said than done.

 

“I can practically hear that snide thought. Easier said than done, right?”

 

In disbelief, I turn to look at him over my shoulder. He simply pushes my head back down on the bed, and continues the movement of his hands down the centre of my back. I have to admit, he’s really good with his hands. If I close my eyes and breathe deeply, I can lose myself in the sensations, forget why we’re really here. When he finally reaches my lower back, I can’t help but tense up a bit in anticipation.

 

“So stubborn you are,” Jinyoung sighs, and I can imagine him shaking his head at me. The bed dips slightly as he straddles my legs. “I’m going to start touching your spot now,” he warns as his fingers gently kneads the flesh of my ass.

 

He spreads my legs wider, and I shiver slightly as the sensitive skin there is tickled by a puff of warm air. I hear the cap of the bottle of lube opening, and I think he’s going to start massaging me again, but instead I feel the liquid drops land on my ass and trickle down the crack. Warm air hits my asshole again, and I can feel it puckering.

 

“The hell are you doing?” I groan. My voice sounds a bit too rough, considering we’ve only just started.

 

“Getting you warmed up,” Jinyoung replies, running his finger down the middle of my ass, past the pucker and down to my balls. “Simple touching just so you can get to know the sensations that you can experience in this area.” Within a few seconds, his finger is teasing the crack of my ass again. It circles the rim of my hole, and expect him to stick it inside, but he doesn’t.

 

“This is kinda nice and all, I won’t lie, but can you just get right down to the actual penetration? The more you try to work up to it is the more I just want to get it over with,” I sit up slightly and look over my shoulder to see Jinyoung scowling at me.

 

“God, you’re impatient. Why even ask for my expertise if you’re just going to rush the process? Fine, we’ll move on to insertion,” he clicks his tongue.

 

The word ‘insertion’ makes me gulp and kind of regret telling him to hurry it up.

 

“Remember what I said about relaxing,” Jinyoung briefly rubs my back.

 

“Yeah, right,” I mumble into the sheets, trying to force the rigidity out of my body with each exhale.

 

After pouring what feels like half a bottle of lube on my ass, Jinyoung tilts it up a bit higher and presses something to my hole that feels hard and soft at the same time. Instinctively, I tense up, but he massages my pucker with the pad of his thumb until I’m more relaxed.

 

“I’m starting now,” he says.

 

It’s weird and awkward and uncomfortable and slightly painful, but nothing like what my memory tells me it should be. I don’t know if it’s because Jinyoung is just that good or if my recollection of that day is distorted. Column A, column B, maybe. At any rate, now that I’m actually trying it and not bleeding from my asshole, this whole bottoming thing doesn’t seem so daunting anymore.

 

“There, it’s fully inside,” Jinyoung announces a few minutes later. “How does it feel?”

 

“Not too bad, actually,” I grin at him, my head pillowed in my arms.

 

“Good to know,” he chuckles, before he taps the plug that’s stuck in my ass.

 

“Whoa,” I gasps as a shiver runs up my spine. “Is that what you feel when you get fucked?”

 

“All that and more, as long as the other person knows what they’re doing—and that’s not something you’ll have to worry about with Jaebum.”

 

“No shit? Well, damn, what was I worried about?” I can’t help but cackle as I think about how much of a pansy I’ve been about this. No wonder Jinyoung wanted to laugh at me.

 

“Since you’ve seemed to be fully adjusted to the first plug, how about we try the next plug?”

 

“Wait, the how big was the first plug?”

 

“About an inch in diameter.” I’m not laughing anymore. “I told you to be patient,” Jinyoung says matter-of-factly. “We could be here a while. But now you know that you can do it, and without being in horrible pain.

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” I shrug a bit.

 

“So, would you like to keep going? Do you trust me enough to allow me?”

 

I chew on the inside of my cheek for a few seconds in consideration before I sit up and glance over my shoulder. “Stick it in me, big daddy,” I simper, batting my eyelids.

 

“Oh, fuck off, it was my first film. You weren’t any better when you first started out and you’ve still got a long, long way to go, rookie,” Jinyoung slaps his hand down on my back.

 

“Pfft, I can admit that I’m no Leslie Cheung, but I am not and was never, ever _that_ bad,” I snort. Jinyoung mimes a punch at my ass. “Well, the memory of your dark past has got me feeling all loosey-goosey and I’m ready to level up,” I lie back down and wiggle my hips.

 

“Right, let’s get to it,” Jinyoung cracks his knuckles.

 

 

 

 

“Jackson, did you hurt yourself? You’re practically limping,” Taecyeon asks the second I step into the break room.

 

It’s been two whole days since I let Jinyoung stick silicone plugs up my ass. Although it hurt less than that sentence would lead one to think, things like walking and sitting—not to mention shitting—still have a tinge of pain associated with them. With Taecyeon watching me, I try to walk as naturally as I possibly can, without aggravating the sore muscles in my ass. Judging from the way his eyebrows knit together it doesn’t work.

 

“I just had a bad landing when I was trying out a skateboard trick,” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s a bad sprain, at worst. I’ll be right as rain in a week.” He doesn’t look like he completely believes that, but he lets it go.

 

“So, I heard you signed the contract and have an upcoming project with the new guy, Jaebum.”

 

“Yes, and yes,” I nod, busying myself with making a cup of coffee just so I don’t have to look Taecyeon in the eyes.

 

“Have you met him yet?”

 

“No, not yet, but we’re scheduled for a project run-through later this morning, so I should see him then.” In the meantime, I should probably work on how to talk to him without sounding like a dickhead.  

 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone named Jackson,” a voice like melted chocolate enters the room.

 

I turn away from the coffee machine and there he is. His hair is shorter than it was in the last video he made with his old company, all the better to see his piercing eyes and killer bone structure. He seems shorter in person, but the confidence in his stance and the way he just exudes ease with himself more than makes up for that.

 

“Hello?”

 

I blink and Jaebum is suddenly a lot closer than he was a few seconds ago.

 

“Yes, this is Jackson,” Taecyeon sidles up beside me and gives me a light slap on the back. “Jackson, meet Im Jaebum, the newest member of our family.”

 

“Oh, right, yes, pleased to meet you,” I take the hint, all but falling forward in a bow. “Shit,” I gasp as my coffee goes tumbling to the ground, sending black liquid splashing across the floor. “I’m really sorry,” I rush to apologise, fervently hoping that he doesn’t think I’m some kind of clumsy idiot.

 

“It’s alright, the floor will survive and so will my clothes. It’s a good thing I decided to wear black,” Jaebum chuckles slightly.

 

Normally, I just feel second hand embarrassment when people—i.e. the boss—laugh at their own jokes, but just Jaebum makes it look cool and not the least bit awkward.

 

“Well, I just stopped by to introduce myself to you before we have to get into the real nitty-gritty of work. Jackson, I’ll see you later. Ok Taecyeon, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Jaebum steps back a bit before he leaves us with a couple parting bows.

 

“Should I be disappointed? I don’t recall you spilling your coffee when you met _me_ for the first time,” Taecyeon speaks up after the door closes behind Jaebum.

 

“Taec, please, not today.” My ass is sore, my pride is bruised and my shoes are soaked with lukewarm coffee—which I’m gonna now have to clean up.

 

Luckily, Taecyeon’s kindness wins out over his penchant for teasing. He pushes me towards the door and tells me, “Go on, I’ll take care of this mess.”

 

“Thank you,” I sigh in relief before I hobble out of the break room. I make a quick stop off at the changing rooms to steal a pair of Jinyoung’s shoes before I head over to the conference room where the run-through is being held, because there’s no way I’m going to let my feet marinade in bad coffee.

 

The conference room is devoid of people when I arrive, but there are nibbles laid out on the table, so I take a seat and help myself. Jaebum is the next to arrive, and he—of course—enters right when I’m stuffing a whole banana muffin into my mouth. I end up double over the table in a coughing fit after trying to quickly chew and swallow the thing. Soggy chunks of muffin go splattering to the table and strings of drool hang from my open mouth. Fucking awesome.

 

“Easy, there. Just try to breathe through it, and have some water,” Jaebum says soothingly as he pounds on my back.

 

“Thanks,” I cough. After clearing the last bit of muffin from my throat, I take the bottle of water he offers me, and slowly drink it down. I don’t even want to imagine how I must look in his eyes. Jaebum must be lamenting his luck to be working with someone who is clearly too stupid to live.

 

“Hey, Jackson?”

 

“Yes?” I mumble, my eyes on the table as I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

 

“Jackson,” Jaebum puts his hand on my shoulder and forces me to shift in my seat until I have no choice but to look up at him. He quickly glances at the clock on the far wall and the door to the room before he turns back to me. “I’m not a scary person in real life, you don’t have to be so anxious around me.”

 

“Anxious, me?” I bluff.

 

He gives me an unimpressed look. The clock strikes ten, and Jaebum throws another quick glance at the door before he continues. “Look, I don’t know if you do this sort of thing at JYP, but at my previous company we would sometimes do rehearsals for scenes that one of the actors wasn’t completely comfortable with.”

 

“A rehearsal?” I blink at him. I think I might know where he’s going with this, but I won’t believe it until the words actually leave his lips.

 

He nods. “Shooting probably won’t start until Monday. Before that, the two of us can do a rehearsal of a few scenes so you can get comfortable with me, learn not to freak out when I get in character,” he grins. In this moment, it’s so hard for me to reconcile this boyish, considerate guy with the hardboiled dominant he becomes in front of a camera.

 

The door opens and Boss Jinyoung steps inside, the shooting crew right behind him.

 

“Think about it and tell me after the meeting,” Jaebum lightly slaps the side of my neck and then moves to take his seat.

 

I might as well be absent from the meeting, because I’m so distracted by the his proposition, and his presence, and the tingling in the skin of my neck, and the soreness of my ass that I don’t give any contributions—meaningful or otherwise. Usually, Boss Jinyoung will have to tell me to shut up for a minute at least once in these things, but today he has to prompt me to talk. That doesn’t escape his notice, judging by the look he gives me at times.

 

Whatever. I can’t even think about that right now when I have to come up with an answer for Jaebum in, like, fourteen minutes. It makes sense to get the worst of my awkwardness and flubbing out of the way before shooting actually starts, save myself some of the grief Boss Jinyoung is sure to give me, but my ass is still sore. Unless it magically heals, I’ll have to tell Jaebum why he needs to take it easy. And I’d rather choke on another muffin in front of him than do that.

 

“Jackson, are you paying attention?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I blink hard to refocus my eyes.

 

“What’s with you today?” Boss Jinyoung shakes his head at me. “Whatever it is, deal with it by six a.m., Monday morning.”

 

Inwardly, I groan at the thought of having to drag myself out of bed at four in the morning, but I keep my face neutral and nod solemnly. “Yes, of course.”

 

“Alright, this meeting is adjourned. You have the rest of today, tomorrow, and the weekend to be at one hundred percent for shooting. Try to actually learn your lines this time,” the boss says with exasperation as he gathers his files together.

 

I bite back my usual retort of, ‘It’s porn, who even cares about the storyline?’ when I notice Jaebum looking at me in the corner of my eyes. “I _always_ try, it’s my horrible memory that lets me down.” A couple of the remaining shooting crew members snicker as they head out the door.

 

I wait until they’re all gone before I turn to Jaebum. “So, this rehearsal, when and where?” I ask lowly.

 

“We could start today,” he says simply, making my eyes widen. “We could just go through the establishing scenes, get into our characters and get familiar with saying the lines. The physical scenes aren’t scheduled to be shot until later next week, anyway.”

 

He’s giving me an out, one I was hoping for just a few minutes ago, one that I could take to put off a very embarrassing conversation.

 

I heave a sigh. “You’re going to find this out eventually, so I may as well tell you now.” Jaebum raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ve never bottomed before, and a few days ago I tried to, you know, ‘prepare myself’ for the experience. I’m still sore from that and my mind is spinning at the thought of doing it for real, especially with you.” I’m slightly winded and a bit lightheaded after getting all those skeletons out of my closet, but there’s something freeing about it too.

 

“Ah, I see,” Jaebum nods.

 

He’s biting the inside of his cheek, but that doesn’t hide the laughter in his eyes. Maybe something in my expression tells him that he’s failed in concealing his humour, because he starts to chuckle after staring at me for a few seconds. Great.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you. Really, I’m laughing at myself,” he snorts.

 

What???

 

“I wasn’t always an exclusive top when I first started out. My first few roles could accurately be summed up as ‘whipping boy’, actually.”

 

“No way,” I blurt out. I can’t even imagine that.

 

He shrugs. “The first company I joined was a tiny one that went bankrupt about three years after they launched, and I used a pseudonym back then, so that’s probably why it’s not very well-known. But nothing is truly erased from the Internet. There are probably some surviving copies of me getting reamed in a maid outfit somewhere,” he says wistfully. “Anyway, the point is that you don’t have to be ashamed of something like a lack of experience or having done embarrassing things in the course of this job.”

 

“Huh, well, when you put it like that, I guess I don’t feel so stupid anymore,” I rub the back of my head with a chuckle. It would be more accurate to say that I’m dizzy with relief, but that works well enough.

 

“So?” Jaebum holds out one hand to me, the other cocked on his hip.

 

I grin brightly and grab his hand. “Let’s do this.”

 

As we move through the halls of the JYP building, I mentally laugh at how much I was dreading this just a few days ago. I mean, sure, I’m still a bit nervous, but now it’s more like that slight bubbling in my stomach that I used to get before the start of a fencing match.

 

“Where are we headed?” Jaebum asks, amusement lacing his voice. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so much more visibly relaxed than I was a few minutes ago or if it’s because I’m still holding onto his hand as I lead him through the halls.

 

“The dorm set where we’re going to shoot our scenes. Youngjae and Bambam just finished a shoot there and no-one else will be using it until after its scheduled cleaning and redecorating this weekend.”

 

“That doesn’t sound very hygienic,” his amusement morphs into disgust.

 

“There’s a spare, untouched bed in there that we can use,” I try to reassure him. From his face, it looks like he’s having reservations, but he doesn’t try to stop me—and he damn well could, between his muscles and my handicap—so I keep going.

 

The window to the dorm set is broken, and has been for as long as I’ve worked at JYP, so the slightly stale air—tinged with the smell of sweat, deodorant and bodily fluids—is the first thing that hits me when I open the door. Beside me, Jaebum makes a face, but he kicks the door shut and steps further inside the room. For a long second, I have no idea what to say or do, but Jaebum is way ahead of me.

 

“It’s not guys. It’s just…just you,” he rasps, pulling his shirt over his head.

 

The waver in his voice is so at odds with the methodical way that he’s stripping and folding his clothes that it takes me a moment to realise that he’s reciting lines from the script. It takes me another moment to remember what my lines are.

 

“Just me? Should that make me feel special?” I’m nowhere near as natural in my delivery as he is, but that’s not the point of this exercise anyway. I follow his lead and shed my own clothes.

 

“You’re in my thoughts all the time, even when I’m asleep. I—I imagine myself doing things with you that I never would’ve imagined doing with a guy. This is all your fault. Take responsibility!” Jaebum grabs me by the shoulders and moves me so that I’m standing in front of the spare bed, then he pushes me down.

 

I’m still bouncing on the bed when he climbs on top of me and seals our lips together in a searing kiss. His skin is wonderfully warm beneath my fingertips and I can taste cherry lip balm on his soft lips. He rocks his groin into mine, and _shit_ , he’s already hard. A few more grinds, and I’m right there with him.

 

“Oh, _fuck_. Are sure you, you’ve never done this with a guy before?” I pant, trying to hold onto my wits enough to stay in character.

 

Jaebum tilts my head until I’m staring him right in the eyes. “You’re my first,” he whispers.

 

I swallow hard. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I say with a half-hearted chuckle.

 

“What about you?” he asks.

 

“Huh?” I blink. He’s going off-script.

 

“Am I your first?” he breaks character slightly to raise his eyebrows in a significant way.

 

Ohhhhh.

 

“I’ve actually never gone this far with guy,” I say bashfully, hoping that Jaebum doesn’t realise how little I’m actually acting.

 

His entire face goes soft. “Don’t be scared, I might not know what I’m doing, but I’ll be careful. I won’t hurt you,” he lightly strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

 

Holy shit! No wonder he’s so respected, he’s amazing. I—I mean, _fuck_ , my heart is gonna beat out of its chest if he keeps dropping lines like that and _looking at me like that_ and—

 

He closes the gap between our lips again, and slips one of his hands past the waistband of my boxers. His hand is warm and slightly rough against the skin of my cock. He jerks it hard, twisting his wrist as he goes.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” If he doesn’t slow down, I’m going to have to add another embarrassment to my list. He stops, leaving me shaking and shuddering.

 

“Hold onto me,” he whispers into my ear.

 

My arms feel like overcooked spaghetti, but I snake them around his neck and hold him as tightly as I can. He slips his arm around my waist and hauls me off the bed and into his lap so that my knees are on either side of his hips. I’m still catching my breath when I feel something warm and wet against the sensitive skin of my asshole. I hiss. He stops.

 

“Just keep going,” I pant.

 

“I told you that I won’t hurt you,” Jaebum says firmly.

 

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt a bit anyway?” I counter, not even trying to act anymore.

 

“I’m going to try something different. Tell me if you find it too weird,” Jaebum lowers me back to the bed and nudges me onto my stomach. When he slips a pillow from the next bed under my hips, I’m hit with déjà vu, or whatever it is when you actually have experienced the same thing twice.

 

Whereas Jinyoung used silicone plugs to loosen me up and stretch me out, Jaebum uses what feels a lot like—

 

“Oh my God! Is that your tongue?!” I arch up off the bed, sending Jaebum’s tongue—his _tongue_ —deeper inside me.

 

“Is that alright with you?”

 

“It’s—it’s definitely weird, but not in a bad way, I guess,” I blink, trying to process how I feel about this. “It doesn’t hurt as much as your finger, so keep going,” I lie back down on the bed.

 

Jaebum spreads my ass cheeks and licks a hot, wet stripe right at my centre. Another hiss escapes me, but this one is only slightly pained. I have to admit, once the initially weirdness of having a tongue in my ass wears off, it actually feels pretty good. Before I know it, my hips start moving of their own accord, rubbing my cock against the scratchy cotton sheets. Jaebum stops the motion of my hips with his hands.

 

“Stay still,” he orders, using that tone I’m used to hearing from him as he mouth fucks someone until they start to gag. It sends a ripple of shock through my body, even though I know that he’s been holding back for my benefit.

 

I expect him to start tonguing me again, but this time he slips what feels like three fingers up my ass. Jaebum really knew what he was talking about. Even if it stings, they go in a lot easier than I ever thought three fingers could.

 

“That’s right, just relax,” Jaebum curls his other hand around my cock and starts stroking it again.

 

The slight burn of his fingers in my ass and the tightness of his hold on my cock set off a series of conflicting sensations that scramble my brain. Then he adjusts my hips and shifts his fingers and—

 

“ _Holy fucking shit!_ ” My whole body jerks like I’ve been struck by lightning.

 

“Hold on, it gets even better,” Jaebum pulls out his fingers and trails them down my back.

 

Before I can question him, he slips the head of his cock into my hole. It’s thick, thicker than anything that he or Jinyoung has stuck up there—and it fucking _hurts_.

 

“Ah, shit,” I grit out between clenched teeth, clawing at the sheets.

 

“Jackson, you have to relax,” Jaebum pries open my fists and laces our fingers together.

 

People keep saying that, but it’s not like I’m _trying_ to tense up and make it hurt even worse! That’s just what my body _does_ in these kinds of situations, and I wish they’d stop making me feel like a fucking idiot for not being to just relax on command like they _apparently_ can.

 

Jaebum pulls out of me. “It’s okay, Jackson. It’s okay,” he runs his hands up and down my back.

 

There’s a wet spot right by my head—saliva and tears. I hold back a sniff as I discreetly rub at my eyes. Jaebum flips me onto my back. My eyes are probably red and swollen, but he doesn’t say anything, he just pulls me up into his lap. He lightly presses his hand on the back of my neck, tilting my head down for a kiss that’s as soft as his lips. Between his lips and his tongue and the motion of his hands against my back, he kisses the tension out of my body.

 

“Want to try again?” he murmurs into my mouth.

 

“Yeah, sure,” I sigh.

 

He shifts on the bed until his back rests against the wall, me still in his lap. With one hand he reaches for a bottle of lube that I hadn’t noticed until now and he dumps a whole load of it onto his cock.

 

“Go up on your heels for a second,” he directs me.

 

I follow, watching as he positions his cock, covered in a condom and liberally coated with lube, right under my asshole. Maybe it’s the change in position or angle or the extra lube, but this time around, his cock slides inside me with much less resistance.

 

“Ah, slowly, slowly,” I grunt, my fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as I try to keep my balance.

 

“I’ve got you,” Jaebum breathes, his hands holding my hips in an iron grip.

 

It takes what feels like an hour, but eventually my ass comes to a stop on Jaebum’s thighs, his cock fully inside me. I slowly release the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

 

“Well done,” Jaebum pecks me on the lips. “Now, sit back and enjoy the ride.”

 

“You’re a man after my own heart,” I chuckle weakly, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.

 

Jaebum flashes that boyish grin again. Before I can soak it in, his face gets hard with concentration and focus, and he starts to slowly roll his hips. A strangled groan falls from my lips. My ass is still sore, but his movements are hitting that sweet spot inside me, so my body has no idea if I’m truly enjoying this or not. Jaebum breaks the deadlock by wrapping his hand around my cock and sealing our lips together.

 

My hands grab at his hair, his shoulders, his back—any part of him that I can reach. My hips buck up into his hand, faster and faster and faster. Jaebum’s movements pick up as well, the rolling punctuated with sharp thrusts that stab me with pain and pleasure. Right now, the burn is the only thing preventing me from losing my mind altogether.

 

Jaebum lets go of my hips and uses his hands to push up his hips and _holy shit!_ I’m bouncing on his cock. Fuck, it feels good! I pull away from his mouth; I can kiss and breathe at the same time anymore. Jaebum follows me, locking his lips over the pulse point in my neck and— _fuck!_

 

“Jesus!”

 

My body shakes and shudders and spasms, until I’m all but flailing in Jaebum’s lap. One last hip roll-thrust-hand pump-neck suck combination from him sends me over the top. I can feel the muscles in my eyes straining as they roll back in my head. My body burns like I’ve been set on fire. I lean back too far and end up sprawling back on the bed, Jaebum collapsing on top of me as his body shakes as well. My past as an athlete makes me better at catching my breath, but my chest jerks with hiccups.

 

“Do you always do that when you come?” Jaebum asks lazily, siting up just enough so he can rest his head in his hand as he stares down at me.

 

“Maybe. Wanna have a few more rehearsals and find out?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

 

Jaebum chuckles lowly in his chest, his eyes warm, and his expression soft and fond. His body radiates pleasant heat, and the musk of his deodorant envelops me. There’s nothing I’d rather do than tuck myself into his side and stay there for the rest of the day, bask in his heat and his scent. His lips twitch slightly, then he leans down and gently presses his lips to mine.

 

“ _Hic!_ ”

 

Jaebum pulls away with a chuckle. “We can rehearse some more later. For now, let’s get out of here before they come to clean the room.”

 

“Your place or mine?” I groan, pain rippling in my lower back as I stretch.

 

Jaebum lightly slaps the side of my neck.


	6. Mark/Youngjae; gimme (your love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been months since Jaebum broke up with Youngjae, and Mark tries to get Youngjae to move on.

_Winter_

Between the sky that’s overcast with dark grey clouds, the fading light of the setting sun, and the light but unceasing sprinkling of snow drifting to the ground, the world outside looks as though it’s been leeched of all colour. It’s the perfect atmosphere for coming up with new lyrics—and that’s exactly what Youngjae would be doing, in what feels like a different life. Instead, he gazes out at the drab scene from his position by the large window in his living room with an unblinking stare. A quick glance at his phone tell him that he hasn’t moved in about three hours. He should probably get up and have something to eat, but he feels no compulsion to go anywhere or do anything. Gradually, his eyelids get heavier and heavier with each slow blink, until they finally cover his eyes. Youngjae slumps fully against the window, paying no mind to the coldness of the glass against his cheek.

 

_Bzzzzt!_

 

“Huh?” Youngjae sits up, blinking blearily.

 

His phone slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor, where it buzzes even louder. Picking it up, Youngjae sees that he’s got a call from Mark. For a long moment Youngjae just stares at his phone, his finger hovering over the screen. Before he can decide to take the call or not, it cuts off. Youngjae lowers his finger, but it’s only a few seconds before he gets a voice message notification.

 

“ _Uh, hey, it’s me. Haven’t seen you in a little while, just thought I’d check up on you. Erm…look, I know it’s too cold and the weather’s too shit for us to really do anything fun, but we could always just hang out and watch a movie or something. I finally got back my copy of_ Miracle in Cell No. 7 _from Bambam. So, like, call me back if you’re interested. Bye._ ”

 

These days Youngjae doesn’t even get the warning of a prickling sensation before water fills his eyes and streams down his cheeks. It’s been two years since he and Jaebum first saw that film together, but Youngjae can still remember every one of the one hundred and twenty seven minutes they sat in the cinema—the smell of Jaebum’s cologne, the cut of his hair, the feel of his hand in Youngjae’s.

 

Pushing himself off the floor, Youngjae stumbles back to his bedroom on wobbly legs. He buries himself under his covers and stays there for the rest of the day. His phone lies abandoned on the floor of the living room.

 

 

 

 

_Spring_

 

The air is filled with the twittering of small birds and the sweet scent of the light pink cherry blossoms that blanket the entire park. In the bright blue sky above, the sun shines brightly with not even a wisp of a cloud to block it. The light breeze that gently ruffles the leaves and blooming flowers keeps the temperature comfortably cool. Young children run freely through the lush grass, squealing with pleasure as they’re chased by their older siblings, while their parents watch them from blankets laid out on the ground. All in all, the setting looks like something straight out of a classic idyllic painting, but Youngjae just can’t bring himself to enjoy it.

 

“Come on, Youngjae,” Mark picks up a rice roll and holds it up to Youngjae’s lips. “Eat something, at least.”

 

“’m not hungry,” Youngjae mumbles with a shake of his head.

 

Mark huffs out a sigh before he pops the roll in his own mouth. Youngjae’s gaze drops to the food laid out before them, his fingers idly playing with the frayed edge of the blanket they’re sitting on. He should feel some kind of shame with himself for how he’s brushing off Mark’s kindness, but he’s too emotionally numb to feel anything.

 

“ _Please_ , eat,” Mark all but whispers. “Not for me, but for yourself.”

 

The breeze picks up, making the excess fabric of Youngjae’s sweater flap against his arms. Four months ago, this same sweater would’ve fit him perfectly.

 

Youngjae picks up a dumpling and slips it in his mouth. The filling tickles his taste buds, but the food feels like a brick in his stomach after he swallows it. In his peripheral vision, Youngjae can see Mark chewing on the inside of his lip—a tell-tale sign that he’s trying to figure out how to say something uncomfortable. Youngjae forces himself to eat two rice rolls and some kimchi. The next time he glances up at Mark, he sees that Mark has stopped gnawing on his lip.

 

“Not bad, right?” Mark smiles tentatively.

 

“Yeah, it’s good,” Youngjae nods. He tears a rice cake in half and nibbles on it.

 

Mark’s smile widens a bit. “I’ve been going to a class on the weekends. Yugyeom takes it too. You can drop by one day, see if you like it.”

 

“Maybe,” Youngjae mumbles, surprising himself—and Mark, judging by the way his eyebrows jump slightly.

 

“Cool,” Mark grins.

 

As he finishes the rest of the food, Youngjae curls up on the blanket. The worn material is soft beneath his cheek. Even with the glare from the sun, it’s not difficult for Youngjae to slip into a doze. He opens his mouth to thank Mark, but he can’t tell if he manages to get the words out before he drifts off. 

 

 

 

 

_Summer_

 

“A cooking competition?” Youngjae frowns as he tries to concentrate on following his conversation with Mark and look through his work schedule at the same time.

 

“ _Yeah, it’s nothing big or anything—the grand prize is a free dinner at the restaurant the teacher works at—but it’s the pride of the matter!_ ”

 

Youngjae can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips at the excitement and determination in Mark’s voice. “Is Yugyeom entering?”

 

“ _Yes, and I need to win this to re-earn his respect after he topped my high score on the right hook machine_ ,” Mark whines slightly. Youngjae laughs a little harder. “ _Well, there’s also another reason why I want to win_ ,” Mark says, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.

 

“What’s that?” Youngjae bites his lip, setting aside his schedule.

 

“ _The free dinner is actually a dinner for two. If I win…If I win, I’d want you to come with me. On a date._ ”

 

“Mark—”

 

“ _No, don’t say anything right now. Just—just think about it, alright? You can’t live in your memories with him forever, and I could make you happy. I_ want _to make you happy_.”

 

Youngjae inhales deeply, holding the breath before he releases it in a sigh. “What if you don’t win? Will you give up on me if you lose?”

 

“ _Is that what you want?_ ” Mark asks lowly. Youngjae doesn’t answer. “ _Right, well, anyway, I’ve got to be going now. I’m gonna try to get to a specialty store before it closes, do some practising for the competition. Later._ ”

 

“Good luck,” Youngjae blurts out just before the line goes dead.

 

The day before the competition, Mark comes down with a bad case of hay fever.  Youngjae stays with him for the next couple of days, feeding him soup and lending a sympathetic ear when Yugyeom sends a flurry of gloating text messages. Mark doesn’t bring up his declaration. Youngjae doesn’t ask about it.

 

 

 

 

_Autumn_

 

“How many pictures are you going to take?” Youngjae laughs as Mark once again pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Haven’t you gotten used to seeing the leaves change colour?”

 

“No, I haven’t, and it’s a shame that you apparently don’t have any appreciation for this wonder of nature,” Mark replies, his gaze fixed on the cluster of trees in front of him as he holds up his phone.

 

Youngjae rolls his eyes, but, secretly, he also loves the changing of the season—the way some of the trees shed their canopy of leaves, the ever shortening days, and the crisp chill in the air that hints at winter. It creates beautiful, striking images that are very conducive to song writing. In the last few days alone, Youngjae has had inspiration strike him several times, filling his head with bits of lyrics and pieces of melodies. If he’s completely honest with himself, the climate might not deserve all—or even most—of the credit for his increased productivity.

 

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” Mark steps up to him, pocketing his phone.

 

“Nothing,” Youngjae shrugs innocently.

 

“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” Mark scoffs playfully. He pauses visibly before he stretches his arm and wraps it around Youngjae’s shoulder.

 

Youngjae fiddles with his fingers, his stomach bubbling with mixed emotions, but he doesn’t move away. They walk together in silence for a few paces, both of them too nervous and uncertain to say anything. Youngjae is so preoccupied with trying to process what this means for the two of them and how he feels about it that he doesn’t notice a familiar figure until it’s too late. Jaebum throws him a waves and starts to head in his direction. He’s not alone.

 

“Youngjae, it’s been ages. How have you been?” Jaebum grins easily.

 

Youngjae steps to the side, shrugging off the suddenly heavy weight of Mark’s arm. “I’m fine,” he nods. His gaze flits between Jaebum and the man standing beside him. He can’t help but notice the arm Jaebum has wrapped around the man’s waist. “Who’s this?”

 

“Jackson Wang, pleased to meet you!”

 

Youngjae takes an involuntary step back when the man—Jackson, apparently—thrusts his arm out. “Uh, same here,” he stutters out, his body shaking as Jackson all but wring it off. “This is Mark,” he gestures Mark with his head when he sees the curiosity in Jaebum’s eyes as he looks the other man over.

 

“Hi,” Mark lifts and drops his hand in a wave, his voice a bit flat.

 

“I told you everything would itself out in the end. We’re better off with other people,” Jaebum says confidently. Youngjae swallows the lump that suddenly appears in his throat. “Well, I won’t interrupt your date any more than I already have. Take care, Youngjae. It was nice to meet you, Mark,” Jaebum gives a parting wave as he turns to leave.

 

“Bye,” Youngjae says faintly, his eyes following Jaebum and Jackson until they become two small dots in the horizon.

 

He takes a deep breath. Turning back, he sees Mark standing a few steps away, his face blank and pale. Youngjae closes the distance between them and touches their fingers together. Mark jumps, his eyes widening in surprise. Youngjae curls his fingers around Mark’s and he starts to walk, pulling the older man along until his feet start moving.

 

“Don’t give up on me,” Youngjae says softly, his words hanging in the air for a second before they’re carried away by the wind.

 

Mark gives Youngjae’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

 

 

 

_Winter_

 

Youngjae hums the melody of his new song as he scribbles down lyrics on his notepad. He wants the hook to be the lure that ensnares the general public, but he can’t quite find the words to fit the tempo. Getting up from his desk, Youngjae stares out the frosted glass of the window. Outside, the city is blanketed in white. Even the shovelled roads gleam as the falling snow creates random pockets of ice and frost deposits.

 

“Ah, shit!”

 

Youngjae jumps at the sound of Mark’s voice. The shout is soon followed by a loud crash. Youngjae hurries out of his study and heads towards the source of the noise, the kitchen.

 

“Are you alright? What happened?” Youngjae stops short. Most of the floor is covered in a brown liquid, an upturned pan of meat the source of the spill. The door to the oven is wide open, bathing the room in waves of heat.

 

“I left the turkey too long. It started burning and I tried to save it,” Mark groans from his position by the sink, his right hand underneath the tap.

 

“Be careful, you still need that hand,” Youngjae gently scolds him, closing the oven door and shutting it off.

 

“I just really wanted to do something special for our first Christmas,” Mark sighs, is shoulders slumping. Youngjae quickly makes his way over to him and pokes his cheeks with his index fingers. “Wha—?”

 

When Mark looks up, Youngjae leans forward and tilts his head. Mark responds immediately, his uninjured hand curling around Youngjae’s waist and pulling him closer. A gasp escapes Youngjae’s lips and it’s quickly swallowed up by Mark’s lips just before Mark slips his tongue into Youngjae’s mouth. Youngjae’s fingers tighten in Mark’s shirt.

 

The tap is still running and the kitchen is still a mess and he still needs to find the words for that hook, but Youngjae ignores all that and loses himself in Mark’s love.


	7. Jr./Youngjae; hungry for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shy, virginal Youngjae meets Jinyoung in a club, and they form a connection. After weeks of chaste touches, he worries that Jinyoung doesn't want to get physical with him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

“Hyung! Youngjae-hyung! Look, that hot guy in the white shirt is still staring at you. He’s totally eyeing you up,” Bambam thumps Youngjae on the shoulder, shouting to be heard above the pounding baseline.

 

Youngjae looks up from his overpriced glass of cranberry juice to shoot the younger man a disbelieving look. In the last fifteen minutes alone, Bambam has gulped down so much alcohol that he’s probably just seeing things. Even if there is a man in a white shirt standing where his wobbly finger is pointing, he probably wouldn’t be interested in Youngjae.

 

“I’m serious, look!”

 

For the sake for his shoulder, Youngjae concedes and looks at the section of the packed club that Bambam has been gesturing to for the past thirty seconds. Youngjae carefully scans the area, but the only ‘hot guy in a white shirt’ that he can spot is attached at the hip—and the lips—to another man. As much as Bambam can get a bit carried away with the pranks he and Yugyeom like to pull on Youngjae, he doubts that this is one of those times.

 

“Here, have some water,” Youngjae holds up a now lukewarm glass of water.

 

“That’s funny, he’s gone now. I swear he was there before,” Bambam slurs. Youngjae presses the glass to the younger man’s lips. Bambam takes a sip and pulls a face. “Ugh, did that come from a tap?”

 

“Bottle or tap, it’ll help with your inevitable hangover,” Youngjae shrugs. “Finish the glass. I’m gonna go check on Yugyeom, I think it’s been far too long since he left for the bathroom.”

 

“He probably just fell asleep on the toilet again,” Bambam scoffs before throwing his head back in a cackle, spilling about a third of the water down the front of his shirt.

 

Youngjae hesitates, wondering if it’s really alright to leave Bambam on his own while Youngjae goes to find Yugyeom. For a second, he considers dragging Bambam along with him, but the thought of having to drag both Yugyeom and Bambam back from the toilet kills that thought.

 

“I’ll be right back. Just sit here and drink your water, okay?”

 

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Bambam salutes carelessly as he sinks into the plush leather seat of the booth.

 

Stepping out onto the dancefloor, Youngjae is immediately swallowed up by a wave of writhing bodies. He’s forced to hold what little breath he has left in his lungs as he desperately pushes his way to the corner of the room that houses the men’s toilets.  He cringes as liquid splashes on his arm and rolls down his finger. It feels too cool to be somebody else’s sweat and too light to be somebody else’s vomit, but he won’t be able to check until he makes it out of the crush.

 

When he finally makes it to the less crowed perimeter of the dancefloor, Youngjae gulps down a sweet lungful of slightly less stale air. The liquid on his arm has been mostly wiped off, but the remnants appear to be both colourless and odourless. Probably water, then. With a shrug, Youngjae heads inside the bathroom.

 

“Yugyeom? Kim Yugyeom, are you in here?”

 

The only response he gets is a quick glance from a man swaying on his feet at a urinal, but Youngjae knows that’s not his charge from his height and hair colour. Two of the five stalls are locked, and Youngjae knocks on both, calling out Yugyeom’s name. Door number one swings open a second after he knocks, revealing a sour-faced man who shoulder checks Youngjae on his way out. The person behind door number two gives no reply, but his shoes are different from the ones Yugyeom wore to the club.

 

 

“Yugyeom, where did you get to?” Youngjae mumbles under his breath as he fishes his mobile phone out of his pocket, quickly dialling the younger man’s number. Youngjae doesn’t really expect Yugyeom to be able to hear his phone, but at the very least, he might be able to feel its vibrations in his pocket. Youngjae begins to anxiously pick at the cuticle of his thumb when the Yugyeom’s phone goes to voicemail.

 

“Come on, you’ve got to still have your phone on you,” he mumbles around his bottom lip as he redials the number.

 

“Are you calling the drycleaner? I don’t think they’ll be open now, friend.”

 

Youngjae looks up when he gets sent to voicemail for the third time to see a man drunkenly stumble out of the other stall. “What?”

 

The man chuckles, swaying slightly on his feet, before he points his finger down at Youngjae’s crotch. To Youngjae’s surprise, there’s a large dark spot just to the left side of his inner thigh. 

 

“Looks like you had too much to drink.”

 

“N-no, that—that’s not what happened!” Youngjae nearly drops his phone in his haste to cover the wet spot with his hands.

 

The man simply throws back his head in laughter. He’s joined by the man at the urinal, who’s now washing his hands and guffawing.

 

“No! Someone…they—they must’ve spilled their drink on me,” Youngjae insists through trembling lips.

 

Once again he’s the awkward, chubby fifteen year old, pleading with his classmates not to throw his schoolbag into the river…

 

“I didn’t wet myself!”

 

…or shave his head.

 

“Stop…”

 

But they just keep laughing.

 

The bathroom briefly explodes with the sound of house music before relative silence returns. Youngjae draws upon the words of Doctor Shin and takes deep, even breaths, focusing on nothing but his own heartbeat. Ten breaths and he loosens his vicelike grip on his phone. Sixteen breaths and his jaw unclenches. At thirty one breaths, Youngjae is just about ready to open his eyes and face the world again.

 

“ _Boo!_ ”

 

“Ahhh!” Youngjae leaps back, tripping over his feet and going crashing into a stall door. Pain immediately explodes in the back of his head.

 

“Please forgive me, I only intended to surprise you a little.” Youngjae blinks his eyes open, wincing at the harsh fluorescent lighting, at the sound of a warm, concerned voice. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

 

“My head hurts,” Youngjae groans weakly.

 

“I’m really sorry,” the man before him gently caresses the sore spot on the back of Youngjae’s head.

 

Youngjae blinks, his eyes readjusting to the light, as he takes in his unwitting assailant. Now, with two good friends in the modelling industry, Youngjae is no stranger to hanging around incredibly attractive people. The man before him could easily fit in with Jackson and Bambam’s co-workers. His glossy jet black hair is gelled in a 4:5 side part that highlight his glowing chocolate brown eyes. His pink lips are pulled back in a kind smile, revealing his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth. He even smells as good as he looks; Youngjae catches himself leaning forward to get a better whiff of the clean, masculine scent wafting off him.

 

“Hello,” the handsome stranger’s smile widens into a grin that makes the skin around his eyes fold and crinkle in the most endearing way.

 

“Hi,” Youngjae breathes, finally coming back to himself.

 

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re going to start humping each other right outside my stall. I swear, I’ll hit you both with this door if you dare try it!”

 

Youngjae sits up in shock at the words emanating from the door he’s slumped against.

 

“Hardly. A public toilet is no place for such things,” the handsome stranger scoffs.

 

“Tell that to all the other drunk twenty somethings that frequent clubs,” the man behind the door shoots back.

 

The thought of drunk young people suddenly jots Youngjae’s memory as to the reason why he came to the bathroom in the first place. “Yugyeom!”

 

“What is it?” the handsome stranger frowns as Youngjae leaps to his feet.

 

“My friend. He’s lost and I’m trying to find him.”

 

“Hey, calm down, I’m sure he’s alright. Try calling his phone.”

 

Youngjae wants to scream that he already tried that—three times—but he swallows the words at the last second. The guy is only trying to be helpful; there’s no point in biting his head off.

 

“Okay,” Youngjae nods and dials the number again, for lack of anything better to think of.

 

“ _Youngjae!”_

“Jackson?!” Youngjae does a double take when he hears the older man’s voice through the line. Briefly, he wonders if he’s dialled the wrong number. “Hyung, why do you have Yugyeom’s phone?”

_“Yugyeom is currently busy lining up shots with Bambam. Why aren’t you here helping with that, by the way? Get your ass back to the booth, it’s time to_ really _get this party started!”_

 

“So, he’s safe?” Youngjae feels something in his chest relax. Something moves in his peripheral vision and he looks up to see the good-looking stranger flash him a thumbs up. Youngjae returns the gesture.

 

“ _Yeah, perfectly_ ,” Jackson says with a hint of confusion in his voice. “ _Well, he’s probably gonna be hurting like hell tomorrow morning, but that’s a worry for the future._ ”

 

“Oh, well…” Youngjae winces at the thought of having his headache exacerbated with liquor and loud music.

 

“ _Speak up, dude, I can’t hear you!_ ”

 

“Actually…Actually, I’m going to head out now.”

 

“ _No way! You can’t leave yet, I just got here! Come on, don’t be so boring._ ”

 

Youngjae’s shoulders slump. The older man almost certainly has no idea that his words are reminding Youngjae of the ‘friends’ who tried to cajole him into shoplifting. He jumps a bit when the phone is pulled out of his hand.

 

“Is there a problem?” the handsome stranger speaks into the line. After a short pause he says, “I’m the man Youngjae is going to be leaving with.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Jackson screeches so loudly that Youngjae can hear him.

 

“You heard me, so don’t be a cockblock.”

 

Youngjae’s mouth falls open and he gapes when the phone is pushed back into his hands.

 

“ _Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna hook up with someone?! **You?!**_ ”

 

“Yeah, okay, I’m hanging up now,” Youngjae blurts out, his cheeks warm.

 

“ _Make sure you use a condom!_ ” Jackson chirps just before the line goes dead.

 

“Well, that tactic certainly did its job,” the handsome stranger chuckles.

 

“Uh, yeah, right. It worked,” Youngjae mumbles, something like disappointment making his stomach sink.

 

“What’s the matter?” the handsome stranger tilts his head.

 

“It’s just…um, what’s your name?” ‘Handsome stranger’ is getting kind of tedious.

 

“Handsome, eh?”

 

Paradoxically, Youngjae’s face burns while his blood runs cold with shock.

 

“My name is Jinyoung, but I don’t mind ‘handsome stranger’,” Jinyoung winks.

 

A toilet flushing is all the warning Youngjae gets before the door to the bathroom stall swings out and knocks his arm.

 

“I told you,” a middle aged man says pointedly as he heads to the sink to wash his hands.

 

“We weren’t—” Youngjae’s protest falls on deaf ears. The man just stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

 

“I think it’s about time we left this place. A public toilet is no place for a date,” Jinyoung chuckles.

 

“Date?”

 

“If I may be so presumptuous. I like you. I feel drawn to you.”

 

“Really?” Youngjae’s eyes widen. He’s mostly elated at the other man’s words, but a small voice in the back of his head whispers doubt that someone like Jinyoung couldn’t genuinely be interested in someone like him; Youngjae shakes his head to silence the voice.

 

“I’m glad to hear that, but…just to make it clear, we’re not actually going to…you know, tonight,” Youngjae stammers, his tongue twisting around in his mouth as he reaches for the words.

 

“No, no, don’t misunderstand. We’ve only just met, it’s much too soon for that,” Jinyoung holds up his hands and shakes his head. “But, hopefully, we could exchange phone numbers?”

 

“Yeah, of course, sure,” Youngjae nods, already unlocking his phone.

 

They exchange numbers, and then Jinyoung escorts Youngjae out of the club—nearly giving Youngjae a heart attack when he casually wraps his arm around Youngjae’s waist. The weather widget on his phone tells Youngjae that the outside temperature has dropped a few degrees since he entered the club, but he hardly takes note of it with Jinyoung pressed so close to him. Although Youngjae isn’t one for one night stands, he can’t help but feel a pang of regret when he and Jinyoung have to head separate ways at the train station.

 

“Um, well, I guess this is goodbye for now. It was nice to meet you,” Youngjae tentatively holds out his hand.

 

Jinyoung grasps Youngjae’s hand and lifts it to his lips. “Text me when you get home so I know that you’re alright,” he presses a soft kiss into the back of Youngjae’s hand.

 

“Yes! Uh, yeah, I will” Youngjae nods, his hand tingling as he lets it drop back to his side.

 

“Goodnight, Youngjae,” Jinyoung smiles warmly.

 

“Later!” Youngjae turns and dashes up to the platform where his train is pulling in.

 

He’s resting his head on the cool glass of the window, drifting to sleep when the thought suddenly pops into his mind. When did he tell Jinyoung his name? Youngjae can’t recall mentioning it to him. He frowns. Well, he probably heard it when Jackson called; he was certainly shouting loud enough. Yeah, that’s probably it.

 

 

 

 

Jinyoung is a puzzle wrapped in a mystery, encased in an enigma. Youngjae has been meeting him nearly every day for the past five weeks for coffee and movies and walks by the river, but he still can’t figure him out. It’s like his brain is wired differently from every other person Youngjae has ever met. Like the way he gets upset when he hears about Youngjae skipping meals and pushes Youngjae to have a snack during their dates, but hardly has anything but a glass of water himself.

 

(“I promise I’ll relax my diet and have a hotdog if you get something to eat as well,” Youngjae tries to reason one night at the concession stand of the cinema they’re at. “And don’t try and tell me that you ate before you got here. That excuse won’t work tonight because I’ve been with you all afternoon.”

 

“I’m fine, really,” Jinyoung shakes his head.

 

Youngjae isn’t comforted. “But it’s been at least six hours since you last had something,” he frowns.

 

“You could say that hunger is a familiar friend for me,” Jinyoung laughs darkly. “Eating anything that hearty will just make me throw up.”

 

“Do you…also have, um, issues with food,” Youngjae fumbles for the words, nervously scratching at the cuticle of his thumb as he forces himself to keep eye contact with Jinyoung.

 

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Jinyoung shrugs, gracefulness present even in such a careless, casual action. “You don’t need to worry about me, though.” Youngjae blinks as his chin is lifted slightly and a thumb softly stokes his cheek. “You should be more concerned about yourself. Don’t bog yourself down with my problems.”

 

“I can’t help but worry about you. I really—uh, I mean, I like you,” Youngjae gulps.

 

“You’re so sweet,” Jinyoung grins, his eye folds crinkling.

 

Youngjae buys a hotdog and makes sure he eats at least half of it. He leaves the rest of it on the tray that sits between him and Jinyoung in the hopes that the other might have a bite or two. He doesn’t.)

 

Or the way he’s perfectly okay with depictions of graphic violence in the films and shows that they’ll watch, but gets into a mood whenever one of the characters has a peaceful death.

 

(“Why does it bug you so much?” Youngjae asks around the straw in his mouth before swallowing a mouthful of carrot juice.

 

“It’s...” Jinyoung trails off, a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s just unrealistic, the concept of a ‘peaceful death’. There’s nothing peaceful about losing your life.”

 

“I don’t think television dramas are supposed to be realistic, no matter the genre,” Youngjae laughs to himself. “And you speak like you have personal experience in that department,” Youngjae is trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the clouds still hang above Jinyoung’s head. “Do you? Uh, have personal experience with dying?”

 

“Yes,” Jinyoung says simply.

 

They sit in relative silence for seven seconds before Youngjae realises that he’s not going to elaborate as per usual.

 

“What was it like, dying?” Youngjae murmurs, his eyes fixed on Jinyoung’s profile. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“Terrifying,” Jinyoung says solemnly. Youngjae swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “It doesn’t matter how much you think you want it or how long you’ve been anticipating it, or how much you think you’ve made peace with it. When the moment finally comes, it’s nothing short of terrifying. You see, Youngjae,” Jinyoung turns to face him at last, cupping his cheek, “nobody truly wants to die.”

 

Youngjae covers Jinyoung’s hand with his own, leaning his cheek into the other man’s touch. “Could I ask how it happened?”

 

“You could ask, but I wouldn’t give you an answer—not tonight,” Jinyoung moves his hand from Youngjae’s cheek.

 

Youngjae wilts at the loss of contact and immediately shifts forward on the sofa, opening his mouth to apologise for ruining the mood and upsetting Jinyoung.

 

“Never mind this nonsense. You’ve got the Avenger’s movie on DVD, right?” Jinyoung grins, easing up from the sofa to look through Youngjae’s DVD collection. “If we’re going to watch something over the top and ridiculous, it should at least be entertaining and fun.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Youngjae blinks. “I actually wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who would be a fan of a comic book movie,” he admits.

 

“I’m a man of many layers,” Jinyoung winks. “And I’d be a bigger fan if they did the right thing and gave Black Widow her own movie.”

 

Youngjae still feels a bit unsettled, but he decides to follow Jinyoung’s lead and set aside his concerns. “Black Widow is your favourite?”)

 

But Youngjae supposes that those intriguing qualities are what make Jinyoung so interesting, what makes Youngjae feel a magnetic pull towards him. Even now, though, he can’t help but worry that that pull is a one sided force. As much as Jinyoung seems to enjoying talking to him and genuinely seems to care about Youngjae’s wellbeing, he doesn’t seem to have any particular interest in sexual intimacy.

 

He has no problem holding hands with Youngjae, or pressing chaste kisses into his cheeks and the tip of his nose and the back of his hand, or curling up on the sofa until they fall asleep, but he never tries to push the envelope—never tries to put some tongue into his kisses or have his hands do a bit of wandering down Youngaje’s body. Maybe it’s just another way Jinyoung is wired differently, but it still leads to several anxiety-filled nights where Youngjae stares at his naked body in front of his mirror.

 

“Do you think it means something or am I just worried over nothing?” Youngjae asks Jackson one night after yet another G-rated date with Jinyoung.

 

“ _I dunno, man. It’s possible that he just doesn’t want sex, but maybe he just thinks you’re not interested and doesn’t want to push you. You were the one who said you didn’t want to have a one night stand in the first place,_ ” Jackson points out. “ _I nearly came after you when you told me that before you left the club, it was so weird._ ”

 

“I…guess that could be it,” Youngjae mumbles into the phone, chewing on the skin inside his cheek,

 

“ _My advice would be to man up and put the moves on him. If he’s into you like that, that’s probably the invitation he’s been waiting for. If not, well, there’s always sex toys and porn,_ ” Jackson says with a shrug in his voice.

 

“Right.”

 

“ _The sleeper is a great thing to try on particularly lonely nights. It really does feel like it’s someone else’s hand!_ ”

 

“Alright!”

 

“ _Go get your man, Youngjae!_ ”

 

Youngjae hangs up. His heartbeat and breathing rate speeds up at the thought of Jinyoung’s naked skin touching his, of being totally exposed before the other man. What would he even do if they actually got to that point? Is there some instinct that kicks in when you’re actually doing it, or will he overthink it and freeze up and disappoint Jinyoung? His breathing slows down and heart rate returns to normal as he comes back to himself. Youngjae decides that it’s too late to call Jinyoung tonight; he has class the next morning, and it’s not his best subject. Better to leave this for some other time, he reasons as he heads off to take a shower.

 

 

 

 

They go one four more dates before Youngjae can finally pluck up the courage to take Jackson’s advice. They’re finished having a late supper by the river—well, Youngjae had supper; Jinyoung just nibbled on a single piece of kimbap—and are about to head to their homes. When Jinyoung leans in to kiss Youngjae goodnight, Youngjae catches his lips and curls his hands into the soft fabric of Jinyoung’s cardigan, pressing the length of his body against Jinyoung’s. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears and his fingers trembling slightly. No response from Jinyoung.

 

He opens his eyes and stumbles back, hiccupping as he tries to catch his breath. “Sorry,” he mumbles, turning away from Jinyoung, blinking rapidly.

 

Before he can take two steps, a strong hand grips him by the forearm, and he’s pulled back, spinning until he hits Jinyoung’s chest. He opens his mouth, but his lips are quickly covered by Jinyoung’s, the other man’s arms snaking around his waist and holding him against Jinyoung’s body. Youngjae’s eyes bug out of his head, losing focus as he stares at Jinyoung’s eyelashes. What little breath that remains in Youngjae’s lungs is lost in a gasp as a warm, wet tongue slides past his lips and enters his mouth. He’s feeling so many things at one time that his mind is becoming overwhelmed. All he can do is let his eyes fall shut and hold onto Jinyoung.

 

“I can’t believe you ever thought that I would reject you,” Jinyoung whispers against Youngjae’s lips, his voice rougher than Youngjae has ever heard it. “You have no idea…how much…I’ve been holding back,” Jinyoung declares between searing kisses.

 

“Oh!” Youngjae gasps, his back falling back as Jinyoung kisses a wet trail down his neck, stopping to suck at the junction of his shoulder and collar bones.

 

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in that club.”

 

The combination of his actions and his words sends delight and arousal rushing through Youngjae’s veins, burning him up from the inside. Cold water falls onto him in steady drops for a few seconds, then he’s suddenly being doused, bringing him back to his senses.

 

“Looks like we’d better get out of here,” Jinyoung laughs.

 

“Let’s go to your place,” Youngjae says in a rush.

 

“My place?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen it before. Is that a problem?” Youngjae wraps his arms around his shoulders, rubbing them in a bid to chase the chill away.

 

Jinyoung strips off his cardigan and holds it out to Youngjae. “It’s soaking wet, but it’s another layer.”

 

“What about you?” Youngjae shakes his head.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Jinyoung smiles. “And I’d like to request a rain check on you coming to my place,” he chuckles at his own pun. “It’s a bit of a mess right now, and I’d be mortified if you saw the state of it,” he rubs the back of his neck.

 

Youngjae is once again caught off guard. “From the way you reorganised my DVDs, I would’ve sworn you’d be a neat freak,” he blinks, putting on Jinyoung’s cardigan. Even though it’s wet, it’s still got some of Jinyoung’s residual body heat trapped inside it.

 

“I guess I’m just full of surprises. Now, let’s get out of this rain,” Jinyoung wraps an arm around Youngjae’s waist and tucks him into his side as he starts to walk. Youngjae leans his head on Jinyoung’s shoulder, hardly minding the rain anymore.

 

 

 

Youngjae expected—hoped?—that Jinyoung would be ready to have him over the next night, but it takes almost a week before Jinyoung whispers into his ear, “My place tonight?”

 

It takes all of Youngjae’s self-control of force of will not to leap out of his seat and dash out of the cinema right then and there. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth for a moment before he tries to form a reply.

 

“That sounds great,” he whispers, successfully keeping the tremor out of his voice.

 

Jinyoung covers his hand with his own and laces their fingers together. For the next hour or so, Youngjae stares up at the screen without seeing or hearing anything. The second the end credits start to appear on the screen, he stands up, pulling Jinyoung to his feet by their still joined hands.

 

“Well, let’s go then,” he says, trying to hold onto his burst of courage.

 

“Yes, let’s,” Jinyoung gently squeezes his hand.

 

The entire way back, Jinyoung keeps a hand on Youngjae in some way, whether it’s holding his hand or looping an arm around his waist. Youngjae has thought that Jinyoung has become touchier ever since Youngjae’s awkward seduction attempt last week, but it’s especially noticeable tonight. Or maybe that’s the anticipation messing with Youngjae’s mind.

 

“We’re almost there—home, sweet home.”

 

Jinyoung has always come across as a sophisticated and refined individual, the kind of person who would paint landscapes in his free time, so it surprises Youngjae when he finds that they’re in a more humble part of the city. Not that that’s a bad thing or that he lives like a king.

 

“You having second thoughts?” Jinyoung asks.

 

Youngjae shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just thought that someone who wears cashmere cardigans might live in a flashier part of town,” he shrugs.

 

Jinyoung laughs despite himself. “What can I say? I like to look nice, but I like being able to afford rent more.”

 

“Practical Jinyoung,” Youngjae smiles.

 

Jinyoung quickly pecks him on the lips. “Come on, then.”

 

One quick trip up the stairs—“This is an old building, so there aren’t any elevators. At least it’s only two floors up,” Jinyoung says apologetically—and Youngjae is finally standing outside Jinyoung’s door. When Jinyoung unlocks the door, Youngjae toes of his shoes and lines them up in the foyer, next to Jinyoung’s other shoes. The foyer opens up into a living room that’s attached to a small kitchen. The small size of the room is alleviated by the large window across from the sofa.

 

“It’s not the best view, but it’s better than nothing,” Jinyoung murmurs into the skin of Youngjae’s neck.

 

A shiver ripples through Youngjae’s body at the huskiness of his voice. “Yeah, definitely better than nothing,” he gasps.

 

“Would you like to see the bedroom?”

 

Youngjae swallows hard. “Yes,” he says in a strangled whisper.

 

From what Youngjae can make out by the streetlights outside, Jinyoung’s bedroom is hardly more than a mattress and a chest of drawers with a small window. The mattress and the duvet that covers it are wonderfully soft and comfortable though.

 

“Oh, you’re—you’re going to have the lights on?” Youngjae instinctively crosses his arms over his chest when light floods the small room.

 

“Do you mind? I’d like to see you,” Jinyoung sits down next to Youngjae on the bed. “You’re so pretty when you blush and I want to see how red you can get,” he holds Youngjae’s chin and lightly brushes the pad of his thumb over the apple of his cheek.

 

“Uh, well, I…it’s kind of bright,” Youngjae fiddles with his fingers, trying not to think about Jinyoung seeing him completely naked under bright lights.

 

Jinyoung pulls him in and plants a soft kiss on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s alright, I can see quite well in the dark anyway,” he winks. “And the moonlight does give a certain atmosphere.”

 

“Thank you,” the words fall off Youngjae’s tongue before he can stop them.

 

Jinyoung presses another sweet kiss to his lips before he gets up to turn off the light. A small sigh of relief slips past Youngjae’s lips when a blanket of darkness covers the room. When Jinyoung returns to the bed, Youngjae reaches out to hold his arm and meets bare flesh instead of fabric.

 

“Oh,” Youngjae gasps softly.

 

“Go on,” Jinyoung says.

 

Youngjae slowly moves his hand up Jinyoung’s arm, his fingers brushing against the fine, dark hairs. He pauses when he gets to Jinyoung’s neck. Jinyoung takes his hand in his and moves it down his broad chest. Down and down his hand goes until—

 

“Oh!” Youngjae jumps slightly, his hand unconsciously closing around the hardening bulge.

 

“This is what you do to me, Choi Youngjae,” Jinyoung says softly, moving Youngjae’s hand until it’s slipping past the waistband of Jinyoung’s trousers. “Can you feel it?” He takes Youngjae’s other hand and holds it up to his chest so Youngjae can feel the faint thrumming of his heart.

 

“I—I feel it.”

 

“Good. I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I desire you.”

 

Before Youngjae can blink, he’s flat on his back with Jinyoung pressing him into the bed, their lips joined in a burning kiss. Closing his eyes and letting himself go, Youngjae wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck and tilts his head back, letting Jinyoung kiss his air away. When the burning in his lungs gets to be too much to ignore, he moves his hands to Jinyoung’s lush black hair, tugging at it to get his attention.

 

“Ahhh!” Youngjae gasps when his lips are finally free. He stares up at the ceiling until his light-headedness ebbs away and the spots of light stop swimming in his vision. When he’s caught his breath again, he’s missing his shirt and Jinyoung is down to his underwear.

 

Although Youngjae has been mentally preparing himself for this moment for well over a week, he still finds himself right in the middle of an anxiety attack. He quickly shuts his eyes and tells himself that he’s beautiful, that anyone who can’t like him the way he is doesn’t deserve him at all, that he loves himself, that he doesn’t need to change himself for anyone…

 

“Youngjae.”

 

Youngjae keeps his eyes shut and repeats his mantra.

 

“Youngjae, look at me.”

 

Youngjae finishes his mantra, but doesn’t open his eyes out of embarrassment.

 

“ _Youngjae_ ,” Jinyoung’s voice sounds so unbearably fond, and if that’s not bad enough, he then follows it with butterfly kisses all over Youngjae’s face.

 

When Jinyoung plants a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek, Youngjae starts to laugh despite himself. “Stop it.”

 

“There’s that smile that I love to see. Now, sit up, let’s try something different,” Jinyoung lightly taps him on the chest. Youngjae complies, curious as to what Jinyoung means. “Straddle me,” he says.

 

Youngjae hesitates for a moment, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, before he unzips his jeans and quickly kicks them off before he can lose his resolve. With nothing but the thin material of their underwear separating them, this is the most exposed Youngjae has ever felt in his life, but underneath the anxiousness is a real thread of anticipation and arousal.

 

“That’s good,” Jinyoung purrs, his voice like melted chocolate. “Now, hold on.”

 

His hips start moving in a slow circle, accompanied by upward thrusts. Youngjae falls forward into Jinyoung’s chest, his hands gripping the other’s shoulders. It’s probably embarrassing for him to be losing his mind from just this, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. The combined sounds of Jinyoung’s grunts as he grinds their pelvises together and the groaning of the mattress make a beautiful melody. When Jinyoung sucks Youngjae’s bottom lip into his mouth, his helpless whimpers add to the music they’re creating.

 

“That’s it, don’t hold back. Let me hear how much you love it,” Jinyoung moans into his ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of Youngjae’s ear.

 

Just when Youngjae is starting to catch his breath, Jinyoung slips his hand inside his underwear and wraps his hand around his erection. Youngjae’s startled gasps morphs into a strangled moan when Jinyoung tightens his grip and starts moving his hand. His feet slide out from under him and he throws his head back, moaning in earnest when Jinyoung squeezes the head and rubs his thumb over the slit.

 

“Ah, ah, ah, Jinyoung!”

 

“You’re so pretty, you should be painted,” Jinyoung pants. “Would you like that? Would you prefer oils or watercolours?” Jinyoung’s questions are strange, but the rapid motion of his hand and his hips keep Youngjae engulfed in a haze of pleasure. Jinyoung’s strong shoulders are his only lifeline; he clutches them for dear life as he bounces in the other man’s lap.

 

Jinyoung pulls his hand out of Youngjae’s underwear and wraps both of his arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hold, his hips hammering faster than ever as he sucks on Youngjae’s neck. The friction and the closeness and the pleasure is too much—much too much. Tears build in Youngjae’s eyes and he cries out pressure is released and a wave of pleasure washes over his entire body. His eyes are rolling in the back of his head and his body is convulsing in ecstasy when a sharp pain pierces his neck.

 

“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, ah, this is—my body is on fire, I— _ahhh!_ ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What a terrible excuse for a trip. I’m actually tenser and stressed now than before I left,” Jaebum grumbles to himself for the umpteenth time since he arrived back in South Korea. “Next time I get time off work, I’m going to do what I wanted to do in the first place and go to a hot spr—” Jaebum cuts himself off when he spots an unfamiliar pair of shoes in his foyer. They’re definitely not a pair of shoes that he bought and then forgot about because they’re a size smaller than what he wears.

 

“Who’s there?!” Jaebum steps inside his living room and grabs the baseball bat he keep behind the sofa. Flicking the light on in the living room, he sees that his floor is stained with scraps of paper and paint stains of varying hues.

 

“Is this some kind of new prank?” Jaebum calls out as he kicks open the door to his bathroom. Finding no one, he creeps over to his bedroom, and kicks open that door.

 

“The fuck—” he drops his bat. Draped on his bed is a man he’s never seen in his life. He’s dressed in nothing but his underwear and he looks unnaturally still. “Hey…are you okay?” Jaebum asks, fearing the worst. Stepping inside, he approaches the bed and touches the back of his hand to the strange man’s cold, clammy skin. Jumping back, Jaebum grabs the edge of his duvet and pulls it over the man’s body, covering up his pale skin and the eerie smile on his lifeless face. He calls for the police instead of an ambulance.

 

 


	8. JB/Mark; treacherous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum is a slippery slope.

“You haven’t corrupted me, you know,” Mark says softly, watching the wisps of smoke drift out of his mouth and dissipate into nothing. The clouds above start to drift, sending blinding rays of light into his eyes. Still, he doesn’t move from where he’s lying on his back. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Jaebum pluck the cigarette from his fingers and lift it to his lips.  
  
“Oh?” Jaebum hums, exhaling an almost perfect ring of smoke from his mouth.  
  
“How do you do that?” Mark frowns, turning his head to the side.  
  
“Years and years of practise,” Jaebum grins slyly.  
  
 _You’re only seventeen, how long have you been smoking?_  The words are on the tip of Mark’s tongue, but he swallows them. “Teach me how to do that,” he says.  
  
“There’s nothing to teach, really. You just do it until it works,” Jaebum shrugs.  
  
Mark takes the cigarette back from Jaebum and takes a draw, relishing the slight thrill he always gets when his lips make indirect contact with Jaebum’s. He contorts his mouth as he attempts to replicate the ring, but the smoke just comes out as a shapeless cloud. Jaebum sits up, chuckling lowly.  
  
“Where are you going?” Mark sits up when the other boy gets to his feet.  
  
“To the station. The sun’s coming out, so there should be people around to watch me dance.”  
  
“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mark stumbles to his feet as well, throwing the cigarette stub to the ground and grinding it with the toe of his shoe. Jaebum gives him a look over his shoulder. “What? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever cut class. I told you, you haven’t corrupted me,” Mark shoulders his bag.  
  
“Alright,” Jaebum says airily, picking up his own bag and sauntering over to the door to the roof.  
  
Mark clenches his hand around the strap of his bag so that Jaebum doesn’t notice the slight shaking of his hand as they slink through the corridors. They’re not stopped by anyone this time, but Mark can’t help but throw a few glances in the direction of the admin office as they’re climbing the school gate.  
  
“Ah, shit,” Mark hisses when the leg of his trousers gets stuck on a protrusion on the gate.  
  
When he lands on the other side of the gate, the trouser leg flaps where the seam was ripped. He tries to hobble away, conscious of the fact that they’re right outside school property, but Jaebum grabs him by the arm and moves him over to a nearby bench. Mark blinks as he’s pushed down and his leg is lifted up.  
  
“It looks like it broke the skin, but it’s not bleeding just yet,” Jaebum murmurs as he moves his hand over Mark’s leg.  
  
“Right,” Mark breathes, his eyes fixed on Jaebum’s profile.  
  
“Come on, there’s a convenience store right next to the bus stop. We can get something to clean and wrap your cut there,” Jaebum kneels down in front of the bench.  
  
Mark hesitates for a moment.  
  
Jaebum looks over his shoulder. “You have three seconds.”  
  
Mark swings his legs down from the bench and slides them around Jaebum’s waist, wrapping his arms around Jaebum’s neck.  
  
“Shit, man, you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Jaebum groans as he straightens with Mark on his back.  
  
“Just know that if you put me down now, you’ll lose your tough guy reputation forever,” Mark laughs.  
  
“I think me giving you a piggyback ride is doing more damage to my reputation,” Jaebum snorts. Still, he carries Mark all the way to the convenience store, letting him down right by the entrance.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he heads inside the store.  
  
To pass the time, Mark moves the flap of his trousers to inspect the cut. Spots of blood have seeped through the white of the exposed skin, dotting the length of the abrasion. The top part of his calf is lightly smeared with blood from where the flap of his trouser brushed the cut. Mark wonders if he should just find a knife or a pair of scissors and put the thing out of its misery.  
  
“Let’s go,” Jaebum steps out of the store and lifts Mark onto his back. Mark has to hold tight to the other boy’s neck to prevent himself from falling off. “I’ll dress it when we get to the station,” Jaebum says.  
  
Mark blinks when he realises that he isn’t carrying a bag. “Wait a minute, did you…”  
  
“Steal it? Yes,” Jaebum says simply.  
  
Mark’s entire body goes tense, his scalp pricking and his face blanching. “You…”  
  
“In all fairness, I told the cashier that I had shoplifted from the store before I left.”  
  
“I…okay, maybe you are corrupting me,” Mark mumbles.  
  
“If you were smart, you’d leave before I manage to succeed,” Jaebum glances back at Mark.  
  
Mark holds his stare until Jaebum has to look away to watch where he’s going. Mark wraps his arms tighter around Jaebum’s neck, leaning down to rest his head against Jaebum’s. He breathes in deeply, the sweet smell of Jaebum’s shampoo mixing with the faint smell of smoke.  
  
“My highest grade ever was a B in P.E.”


	9. JB/Youngjae; who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youngjae meets, loves and loses Jaebum.

“ _Psst!_ Oi, Youngjae, do you know the guy in the grey sweater vest?”

 

At Bambam’s shouted whisper, Youngjae looks up from the counter he’s wiping. “Who?” he tilts his head.

 

“Corner booth in the back,” Bambam whispers, gesturing with his eyebrows in a ridiculous-looking manner.

 

Youngjae steps from the back of the counter onto the floor of the coffee shop, heading over to the back to wipe one of the tables and do reconnaissance. After a quick glance, he’s quite certain that he’s never met the man sitting by himself in the far corner—he would definitely remember crossing paths with someone so strikingly handsome. He’s dressed quite conservatively, like a young professor or a librarian, but his black slacks and sleeveless jumper cling to his body in very flattering ways, and his plain black framed glasses highlight his piercing brown eyes. Those eyes shift ever so slightly and Youngjae finds himself trapped.

 

The handsome stranger stares back impassively, lifting his cup to his lips. He takes a long pull on his coffee, not blinking the entire time. Water drips onto Youngjae’s shoes as he clutches at the wet flannel in his hand, desperately trying to jumpstart his brain.

 

“Youngjae, I need you at the counter,” Bambam calls out.

 

Youngjae jumps. “O-okay, I’m coming,” he stutters, blinking rapidly as feeling returns to his body.

 

He turns to retreat back to the front of the shop and runs right into one of the tables. He hisses as his shin knocks against the table’s metal leg. Youngjae can practically feel the handsome stranger burning twin holes into the back of his neck. He dares not turn around to check if he’s right.

 

“So?” Bambam asks the second Youngjae gets behind the counter.

 

“So what?”

 

Bambam briefly rolls his eyes. “The guy, who is he?”

 

“I don’t know,” Youngjae shrugs, turning his back to Bambam and attending to his register. _But I’d like to_ , he thinks.

 

 

 

 

“Knock knock, may I come in?”

 

Youngjae looks away from the mirror and puts down his makeup brush cleaner at the sound of Jaebum’s voice. “Yes, sure.”

 

“Congratulations on your opening night,” Jaebum sings as he steps through the door, his face and body mostly obscured by a large bouquet. “I can already see the sterling reviews you’ll get,” he winks, peeking out from behind the bouquet.

 

Youngjae cheeks get warm.  “It’s just a two day production put on by a community drama club,” he says sheepishly.

 

“So? It’s still a performance in front of an audience, and you were amazing,” Jaebum says firmly, leaning down to capture Youngjae’s lips in a soft kiss.

 

Youngjae’s eyes flutter closed. His nose is tickled by the sweet scent of the flowers and the strong musk of Jaebum’s cologne mixing and wafting around the small dressing room. The combination of scents is quite overwhelming, making Youngjae a bit lightheaded—not helped by Jaebum slowly kissing his breath away. Youngjae’s has to wonder if it’s possible to suffocate like this, but if so, then it’s not exactly a terrible way to die.

 

“Hey, Youngjae, are you finished chang—Oh! Excuse me.”

 

Jaebum pulls away and Youngjae can breathe again.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Jimin asks coyly, her right hand posed on her chest.

 

Jaebum chuckles lightly. “I’ve got a lecture to get to, you go on with your friends. See you later, Youngjae.”

 

Jaebum rests the bouquet on the small desk in front of the mirror and takes his leave, blowing a kiss at Youngjae just before he disappears behind the door.

 

“Soooo, who was that hot guy?” Jimin raises her eyebrows pointedly.

 

“I don’t know,” Youngjae mumbles, pointedly turning back to the mirror and going back to his skincare. In his reflection, his cheeks glow pink through the remnants of the heavy stage makeup.

 

 

 

 

“Youngjae, can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

 

“Um, okay, I guess,” Youngjae croaks, trying not to blink as the doctor shines a small flashlight directly into his eyes, humming to herself all the while.

 

“Hmmm, are you in any pain at all?”

 

“Yeah, a bit.”

 

“Where are you in pain? And how bad is it on a scale from one to ten?”

 

“My chest hurts, uh, like a five. So does my arm, a six. My head, that really hurts, that’s at least an eight,” Youngjae moans.

 

“I see.” The doctor sits back, finished with her examinations. “That’s about what we expected. I’ll look about prescribing you some pain medication, but it probably won’t completely erase the pain. It’s promising that you woke up so soon and seem to have all your faculties, but we need to be cautious since you injured your head in the accident. Is that alright?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Youngjae mumbles, leaning into his pillows and giving his eyes a rest from the stark white background of the room.

 

“Before you go back to sleep, would you like to see some visitors for a few minutes? One young man in particular has hardly left your side since you came out of surgery,” the doctors says with a kind smile.

 

“Right,” Youngjae blinks. “That must be Jaebum. Jaebum…”

 

Youngjae sits up in bed, some energy returning to him at the thought of seeing Jaebum again. He’s probably been beating himself up this entire time, even though neither of them could have predicted that taking the bus instead of waiting for Jaebum to pick him up would land Youngjae in the hospital. Hopefully, Youngjae can bring some peace to his mind.

 

“He’s still quite tired, so don’t stay longer than a few minutes,” the doctor says as she opens the door.

 

“Right, yes, thank you.”              

 

Youngjae frowns as the man steps inside the room. The voice is just about the same, but the face…It’s like he took one of Jaebum’s pictures and showed it to a plastic surgeon as his ideal: he’s clearly trying to look like Jaebum, but an imitation can never be the original. It’s just plain creepy, Youngjae can’t even look at him for more than a few seconds.

 

“Youngjae, I’m so relieved that you’re alright. How are you feeling?”

 

Youngjae chews on the inside of his bottom lip, staring blankly at the man. Part of him wants to scream at the creep, another part of him wants to hide under his bedsheets, yet another part of him wants to ask the man what he did with Jaebum.

 

“Are you in a lot of pain? The room is probably a bit bright for you after you hit your head, right?” The man steps over to the windows and closes the blinds.

 

Admittedly, that does somewhat relieve Youngjae’s headache, but the man’s presence is still unsettling.

 

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you, Youngjae.”

 

The man invites himself to perch on the edge of Youngjae’s bed. Youngjae stiffens.

 

“What’s wrong?” the man frowns, trying to recreate the way Jaebum’s eyebrows pinch together when he’s confused.

 

“Please leave,” Youngjae says at last.

 

“I…Are you upset with me for not being there to pick you up?” The man puts on a devastated expression.

 

Youngjae finally releases his lip from his teeth to respond. “What have you done with Jaebum?”

 

“…What?”

 

“Nothing could keep away from seeing me in hospital, you must have had him abducted to pull off your strange, sick scheme. Where is he?”

 

“Youngjae…” the man says faintly, lifting his hand.

 

Youngjae slaps it away—nearly falling off the side of bed in recoil—before it can land on his shoulder.

 

“Please, call security,” Youngjae turns to the doctor who is still hovering by the door.

 

“Youngjae, you remember Jaebum?” she asks cautiously as she approaches Youngjae, a weird gleam in her eye as she glances between him and the man.

 

“Of course, he’s my husband.”

 

“Yes, he is,” the doctor nods. “Now, tell me, who is this?” She gestures to the, whose expression is becoming more and more grotesque the further he tries to mimic Jaebum.

 

“I don’t know,” Youngjae looks away from the man.


	10. Jackson/JB; tall tales

“So, you want to know my story?” Jackson sighs deeply, letting his eyes fall closed. “It’s delicate ground to be treading, but then again, no broken bone can heal properly without being re-set, no matter how much it hurts. Alright, here it goes.

 

“It all started three months ago at a house party thrown by one of my teammates. It was the 19th of July, the day that I met _him,_ Im Jaebum. The air conditioning was set to full blast, but it barely made a difference to how swelteringly hot it was that night, especially with the combined body heat of everyone inside.

 

“Honestly, I kind of liked it,” Jackson chuckles wryly. “The heat sets a certain mood, you know, makes people sweat and drink more and then act in ways they never thought possible of themselves. Also, there’s something amazing erotic about leaning in closely to a dance partner and licking a bead of sweat that’s slowly rolling down their neck…but I digress,” Jackson shakes his head.

 

“Getting laid wasn’t my M.O. that night, but I wasn’t going to turn away anyone that truly tickled my fancy, you know? I had just come off the dancefloor to take a breather and get a drink, and that’s when I saw him.”

 

Jackson pauses, stopping his monologue to take a long, slow pull of his glass of cranberry juice. Against his better judgement, Mark remains in his seat at the kitchen table, waiting for Jackson to continue.

 

“He was…I don’t even know how to describe it to you, man,” Jackson runs a hand through his hair. “He was fucking _hot_. His broad shoulders, those piercings, his stupidly perfect hair, and then he turned and fucking stared me down. It was like I was pinned in place, the way I couldn’t move!”

 

Jackson closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, his hand clutched over his heart.

 

“Are, are you okay?” Mark blinks.

 

“Yes, I’m…Anyway, back to my story. I saw him and in that moment I knew that I wanted to fuck him—that I was _going to_ fuck him. He seemed to know it to, judging by the looks he was giving me, the vibe he was giving off. God, it was just a perfect bubble of sexual tension, the likes of which I probably won’t ever see again,” Jackson groans, looking equal parts wistful and aroused.

 

“Uh…”

 

“So, after the bubble popped, he leaned in—he smelled amazing by the way, like a Gucci purse— fucking smirked at me, and asked if I wanted to dance. I thought he was being coy and asking if I wanted to just head off to the bathroom and have a quickie, but he took me by the hand and pulled me out onto the dancefloor.

 

“I was surprised, but definitely not disappointed when he pulled me in close and started doing body rolls,” Jackson bites his lip.

 

“It’s a good thing I was wearing my fitted jeans that night ‘cause, let me tell you, I was hard in a minute. I was just about ready to grab him and hustle him to the bathroom, foreplay be damned, but then he pulled away and started dancing normally. I wasn’t going to just take that, hell no. I made a grab for his hips, but he spun me around like a Beyblade, pulled me back against him and started grinding. Tease.”

 

Jackson solemnly shakes his head. Mark throws a glance at the doorway.

 

“I admit, I was weak to his boldness. I’m accustomed to be the one leading and making the first moves, but I didn’t fight him. How could I..?

 

“Anyway, if I was hard from his body rolls, his grinding turned my dick to steel. Or stone.  Something _really_ hard. Yeah, so, I pretty much just followed his lead, grinded back on him and delighted in finding out that I wasn’t the only one who was painfully hard.“

 

Mark coughs and glances at the doorway again.

 

“Between the bangin’ music and the heat and Jaebum’s hard dick against my ass, I’m surprised I didn’t jizz in my pants right then and there on the dancefloor, but by some magic, I held it in and then he finally said the words, ‘Let’s go back to mine.’

 

“That was a hint,” Jackson says seriously, his fingers steeped before him. “Not ‘My place or yours?’ In retrospect, it seems so obvious, but at the time I didn’t have a clue. I just grinned like an idiot and practically tripped over myself to follow him.

 

“The first thing that stood out to me was how clean and tidy everything in his apartment was, it was like a freakin’ showroom. I didn’t have too much time to look around though, he had me up against a wall with his tongue down my throat in a minute.

 

“Now, I know I can be loud at times—”

 

Mark snorts.

 

“—but I was moaning like a bitch, can I tell you? I don’t know how many people he’s kissed, but it’s got to be a lot otherwise he just has a gift, he’s _so_ good at it. It’s hard to put in words, but it’s like his tongue is reaching into your soul and grabbing your dick at the same time, amazing.

 

“Even at this point, I still entertained the thought of sticking it to him. Dude…I don’t even know, he must’ve had my brain more messed up than I thought. So, he had had me up against the wall, his hand down my pants, stroking me like he was born to get me off, I wish I could describe it in a way that makes you feel what he made me feel, man.”

 

“No, that’s, I’m alright,” Mark says hesitantly.

 

“I had to have come in my pants at least once. I can’t even remember, but he was so good, it must’ve happened. The next thing I know, I’m bent over the arm of his sofa.

 

“Now, at this point, I came back to my senses, tried to pull the brakes on things. I was like, ‘The fuck? I’m a top.’

 

“Jaebum didn’t care. He said, and I quote, ‘I’ll make you scream my name as you make a mess of my nice sofa, that’s a promise.’

 

“Not even gonna lie, a shiver ran up my spine when he said that, but I wasn’t going down—literally—without a fight. I insisted that I didn’t bottom, especially not when my partner is so pretty. I might as well have been talking to a rock. He fucking licked and suck at my neck like I didn’t say anything, and then he slipped his hand back in my pants and started stroking my dick again.

 

“I was like, ‘Jaebum, I’m not your personal sex toy.’

 

“He deadass looked me in the face, with his eyes fucking gleaming, and said, ‘I get what I want.’

 

“‘I get what I want.’ I…That’s something I would say! What the fuck do I even say to that?!” Jackson slaps the table, shaking his glass of cranberry juice and Mark’s plate of toast.

 

“I can’t lie, after he said that, well, I kind of melted like a snowman in hell. I always thought that I had a dominant, borderline overbearing personality, but Jabeum has changed my whole paradigm of thinking,” Jackson says pensively, his chin held in his hands.

 

“He ate my ass, you know?”

 

Mark chokes on his own spit.

 

“When he had me bent over his sofa, he spread my cheeks and ate me out like he was a starving man at a buffet. That was the first time I’ve ever experienced that,” Jackson hums, his eyes glazed over. “And true to his word, he had me screaming his name—and all kinds of obscenities—when he finally gave me the dick.

 

“I was practically paralysed when he was finished. He had to scoop me up and physically carry me to his bedroom afterwards, and that was just after round one. By the end of the night, I was a different person. Society likes to pretend that sex only changes women, but after that dicking down, I know that to be false.

 

“My life changed that day. I found a new boyfriend, someone who I plan to be with for as long as possible, and not just because of how the skilful way he touches my dick. It’s kind of unbelievable, but I almost feel as giddy when I get him to do something stupid and ill-advised as when he’s hitting my prostate just right,” Jackson chuckles.

 

“We bitch at each other all the time, but I kind of enjoy that too. I don’t have to worry about whether or not he can handle me when I get hyper—oh no, far from it—and he can be ridiculously cute when he lets go of his image,” Jackson sighs dreamily, his eyes falling shut as he rests his cheek on his fist.

 

“O…kay?” Mark blinks owlishly.

 

“I’ll never be the same again,” Jackson murmurs.

 

“Jackson, I…Look, all I wanted to know was if I could have the last tin of baked beans,” Marks says faintly.

 

“Weren’t you listening?” Jackson opens his eyes. “I can’t have beans, not anymore.”

 

Mark blinks. “Wha—?”

 

“I’m extra careful now about anything and everything that affects down here,” Jackson says with a pointed glance at his lower body. “I’ve doubled my squat reps and I’ve traded in milk and sodas for cranberry juice. It really does affect how you taste—”

 

“Fuck breakfast, I’m done,” Mark mutters as he leaps up from his chair, shaking his head as he makes a break for the doorway.

 

“I gave the baked beans away in a food drive,” Jackson calls out around a mouthful of granola.


	11. Mark/Youngjae; Hold My Hand

“'So the prince doubled his evening exercise routine so he could be tired enough to wake up early in the morning. He needed to rest for the hard studying he would need to do so he could get into medical school and—’ what even is this story, Youngjae?” Jaebum frowns as his eyes sweep Youngjae’s notebook.

  
  


“If he’s going to go on a dangerous quest to save the princess, he should know how to treat wounds,” Youngjae argues.

  
  


“Why doesn’t he just take one of the court doctors with him?” Jaebum asks, wrinkling his nose in adolescent exasperation.

  
  


“Because he has to do the quest alone, of course,” Youngjae rolls his eyes. “The witch made that very clear.”

  
  


Jaebum clicks his tongue. “Whatever.”

  
  


“My teacher liked my story so much that I got top prize for it.” Youngjae crosses his arms over his chest and kicks at his blankets. “Mummy would’ve liked it,” he mutters under his breath.

  
  


Even without his night-light on, Youngjae can see the pained expression that contorts Jaebum’s face contorts and he immediately regrets his careless grumbling. Chewing on his bottom lip, he desperately racks his brain for something—anything—to say to break the tense silence. Ultimately, he doesn’t need to.

  
  


“H-hyerim-ah! I promise, I promise I’ll be…Come back! Please…”

  
  


Jaebum heaves a sigh, closing Youngjae’s notebook. “I’ll be right back.”

  
  


“Hyung.” Youngjae grabs his brother’s wrist.

  
  


“I’ll be alright,” he says with a half-smile, looking much older than his thirteen years.

  
  


Youngjae tightens his grip on Jaebum’s wrist, reaching up with his other hand to lightly rub the skin just above Jaebum’s left eye. Jaebum quickly pushes Youngjae’s hand away, but not before Youngjae feels the slightly raised bump of the scar that now sits below his moles.

  
  


“I said I’ll be fine,” Jaebum says firmly. “He wasn’t  _trying_  to attack me. He’s not in control of himself like this and he caught me off guard. I’m just going to put him in his room and make him take a painkiller.”

  
  


“Okay,” Youngjae mumbles, reluctantly releasing Jabeum’s wrist. “But you still have to finish the story.”

  
  


“And I will,” Jaebum smiles.

  
  


The door closes with a small thump and Youngjae brings his thumb to his mouth. Maybe it was just something he dreamed up, but Youngjae can vaguely picture his father tugging his thumb out of his mouth and replacing it with a lollipop. Maybe it was real, because Youngjae can only remember his habit of biting his thumbnail, a habit that he picked up from Jaebum.

  
  


“Hyerim?”

  
  


“No, it’s just me. But she told me to get you into bed.”

  
“B-bed…”

  
  


Youngjae chews on his nail, part of him expecting to hear the sound of stumbling and Jaebum crying out again, but it’s only a few minutes before Jaebum returns to the room, no worse for wear than when he left.

  
  


“So, where were we?” Jaebum drops down beside Youngjae and picks up the notebook.

  
  


“Is it alright if you finish my story some tomorrow? I think I’m ready to sleep now,” Youngjae says around a yawn.

  
  


Jaebum doesn’t say anything, but Youngjae can practically feel the  glare directed at him amid the shifting of the blankets. Youngjae yawns again, nuzzling his face against his pillow as he settles in for the night.

  
  


“ _Ngh_ …”

  
  


Youngjae opens his eyes, looking towards the door. He keeps his gaze there for a full minute, blinking heavily as he keeps his vigil, looking away only when the moaning stops. In the space between them on the mattress rests Jaebum’s outstretched hand. Youngjae doesn’t hesitate to grab it. Jaebum tonelessly hums an old song that Youngjae was obsessed with when he was younger and Youngjae drifts off into a dream of a happy memory.

  
  


~

  
  


“I’m sorry,” Youngjae says softly.

  
  


In the driver’s seat Mark blinks, but whether that’s a reaction to the apology or the flash of lightning in the distance is unclear. The older man can be difficult to read at the best of times, but it’s worse when he gets quiet and disappears inside his own head like this.

  
  


“Please say something. I didn’t, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  
  


“I’m not mad.”

  
  


Youngjae blinks, straightening in his seat. “You’re not?” He absently chews on his thumbnail and stares at Mark’s profile as he waits for a reply. When none comes after several more minutes of silence, Youngjae wonders if he imagined it.

  
  


“I mean, I am, I guess?” Mark shrugs briefly. “But really I’m…disappointed.”

  
  


“Disappointed?” Youngjae tilts his head.

  
  


“For lack of a better word.” Mark shrugs again. “Like, do you really think that little of me that you couldn’t tell me? Am I that lacking?” Mark finally looks away from the road to shoot Youngjae a look that could only be described as anguished.

  
  


“That’s not—I didn't—” Youngjae can feel beads of sweat forming on his brow as he wills the words to come.

  
  


Mark sighs, shaking his head. “I’m a dumbass. It’s your personal business and I’m being an idiot.”

  
  


Youngjae fidgets in his seat, his tongue still out of commission.

  
  


“Just…know that you can tell me whatever, okay?” Mark glances back at Youngjae with a tentative smile. “I can’t say that I can relate to what you went through, but I can always—”

  
  


“The best day of my life was the day I turned six,” Youngjae speaks up. He lays his hand palm up on the drink holder,  staring at Mark beseechingly.

  
  


Mark grasps his hand, lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze.

  
  


Breathing a little easier, Youngjae continues. “I had just started getting into animals, so my parents took me to the zoo as a treat. That was the first time I’d ever taken a train. I spent the entire time gawking out the window trying to take in the scenery. I remember being stunned at how big the world was,” he chuckles.

  
  


“Scaredy cat that I was, even the baby animals in the children’s section made me nervous. My mother worried that I might not be able to handle the proper zoo with the bigger animals. I, I don’t quite remember what her voice sounded like…” Youngjae frowns.

  
  


Mark gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and Youngjae flashes him a grateful smile.

  
  


“They took me to the penguins first, and then the seals, and then we got to the otters.” Youngjae smiles to himself, closing his eyes.

  
  


“ _Oh, they’re so adorable. Honey, make sure you get some footage of that one playing with the cups.”_

  
  


“ _I guess they’re cute, but they don’t really do anything. Can we go see the polar bears now?”_

  
  


“ _I can’t see…”_

  
  


“ _I’ve got you, little man.”_

  
  


“ _Wee! Much better. Hey, are the otters holding hands?”_

  
  


“ _Otters have paws, not hands. Don’t you know anything?”_

  
  


“Jaebum.”

  
  


“ _Yes, otters hold onto each other while they sleep so they don’t drift away from each other and get lost.”_

  
  


“ _Oh, wow, that’s really neat. Otters are smart!”_

  
  


Youngjae opens his eyes. “I don’t know why, but that stayed with me the entire time. Whenever I got freaked out by the elephants or the bears, I would hold my father’s hand and I suddenly I was invincible.”

  
  


Mark glances at their joined hands, smiling knowingly.

  
  


“I have so many mixed up feelings about my father already without having to figure out how to grieve him,” Youngjae whispers, almost afraid to say the words aloud. “There’s not much you or anyone else can do about it, but…”

  
  


“What is it? Tell me what I can do, whatever it is.”

  
  


“Just…can I hold your hand?” Youngjae takes a deep breath as a tell-tale itch starts at the backs of his eyes. “Like, for an embarrassingly long time?”

  
  


Mark gently squeezes Youngjae’s hand. When Youngjae’s breath starts to hitch and his hand begins to shake, Mark thumbs calming circles on the back of Youngjae’s hand.

 

 


End file.
